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THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  VORSC  •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO  •   DALLAS 
ATLANTA  •    SAN   FRANCISCO 

1\IACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LiMiraa 

i-ONDON  •    BOMBAY  •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNS 

THE  MACMlLLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


THE  RUDDER 

A  NOVEL  WITH  SEVERAL  HEROES 


BY 
MARY  S.  WATTS 

Author  of  "Nathan  Burke."  "Van  Cleve,' 
'•The  Rise  of  Jennie  Gushing,"  etc 


MACMILLAN  AND  CO.,  Limited 

St.  Martin's  Street,  London 

1916 


PART  ONE 
THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE 


y^ 


^■dm  17 


THE  RUDDER 

A  NOVEL  WITH  SEVERAL  HEROES 


CHAPTER  I 

OUR  Middle  Western  States  abound  in  what 
certain  manufacturers  of  humorous  epithet  in 
other  sections  of  the  country  have  called 
with  a  gay  and  stingless  opprobrium,  '^  freshwater  col- 
leges." Of  old  —  that  is  to  sa}^,  about  the  fourth  or 
fifth  decade  of  the  last  century  when  most  of  them 
were  founded  —  these  institutions  symbolised  to  the 
public  mind  not  merely  the  adva.ncement  of  learning, 
but  its  advancement  by  way  of  some  particularly  stift', 
comfortless  theological  doctrine,  and  some  mortally 
iiard-bitten  moral  standards;  so  that  even  now  the  ma- 
ture native  of  these  parts  involuntarily  associates  any 
freshwater  college  with  Calvinism,  Abolition,  the  tem- 
perance-pledge, and  sizzling  denunciations  of  pretty 
nearly  every  form  of  entertainment.  I  say  involun- 
tarily because  the  notion  persists  against  our  better 
knowledge ;  for,  of  course,  all  that  has  been  changed. 
Nowadays  they  have  forgotten  all  about  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin  and  Ten  Nights  in  a  Bar-Room;  they  have 
fraternities,  and  dramatic  clubs,  and  class  dinners, 
and  commencement-week  parties  and  such-like  vain  so- 


4  ...  THE  BUDDER 

cial  e.xerci?^es.  even  as  do  the  saltiest  of  the  salt-water 
estaVljHbil)ie2ii^L  Yes^  yoa  may  read  in  this  morning's 
paper  how  the  Cambridge  (Ohio)  Wesleyan  nine  de- 
feated the  Thebes  (Indiana)  Baptist  Brothers'  four 
to  three,  the  game  going  to  eleven  innings;  and 
towai-ds  Thanksgiving  Day  w^hen  the  football  season 
is  at  its  height,  the  colours  of  both  Thebes  and  Cam- 
bridge are  carried  to  victory  on  many  a  field  of  broken 
Wesleyan  ribs  and  damaged  Baptist  noses.  The  old 
order  has  passed  away  before  the  vital  necessity  of 
being  up  to  date. 

Something  like  the  above  reflections  went  through 
the  mind  of  Mr.  Marshall  Cook,  that  well-known  man 
of  letters,  during  his  two  hours'  journey  on  the  *'  In- 
terurban,"  the  morning  of  the  hot  June  day  on  which 
by  invitation  he  was  to  deliver  the  commencement  ad- 
dress before  and  to  the  Cambridge  undergraduates  — 
class  of  '04  —  the  faculty  of  the  college,  and  some 
scores  of  collegians'  parents  and  friends.  He  had  it 
in  his  satchel  —  fifty  typewritten  pages  of  humbug,  to 
quote  his  own  unsparing  judgment,  which  he  cal- 
culated could  be  stretched  to  occupy  an  hour,  read 
with  deliberation  and  allowing  occasional  pauses  to 
point  his  statements,  or  for  applause  —  here  Mr.  Cook 
grinned  quite  diabolically.  If  asked,  he  would  have 
said  that  he  did  not  expect  to  amuse  or  enlighten  — 
the  gift  of  amusing  and  enlightening  is  a  rare  one,  and 
he  had  reasonable  doubts  about  possessing  it;  at  any 
rate,  nothing  of  the  sort,  according  to  his  experience, 
was  wanted  at  a  college  commencement  —  and  most 
assuredly  none  of  those  ribald  comments  about  fresh- 
water and  creeds  and  so  on.  No,  he  knew  his  duty. 
The  speech  must  last  an  hour  —  anything  of  less 
length,  even  if  packed  with  the  wisdom  of  the  ages, 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE      5 

would  not  be  considered  to  earn  the  money  —  and  it 
must  be  wrought  entirely  of  sterling  platitudes,  recog- 
nisable at  first  sight,  so  that  everybody  would  know 
how  to  receive  them.  It  would  be  difficult,  he  thought 
sardonically,  to  get  together  a  larger  or  better  selec- 
tion than  that  contained  in  his  fifty -page  manuscript ; 
he  was  as  sure  of  the  applause  as  man  can  be  of  any- 
thing in  this  chance-ruled  universe. 

Perhaps  his  attitude  of  mind  was  not  that  of  the 
college-man;  and  in  fact,  the  eminent  author  had 
never  gone  to  college,  not  even  to  Cambridge,  although 
he  was  born  —  forty -odd  years  earlier  —  and  had 
grown  up  in  the  same  State,  within  a  hundred  miles. 
Now  he  surveyed  the  landscape  with  the  not  very  pro- 
found interest  its  unimpressive  comeliness  would  have 
roused  in  a  stranger ;  it  occurred  to  him  ironically  that 
this  country  of  his  birth  was  best  known  to  him  thus 
through  a  car-window,  and  that  furthermore,  dreadful 
to  state,  he  had  no  desire  to  know  it  better.  He  had 
visited  the  city  that  was  his  old  home  only  at  wide 
intervals  and  for  scarcely  longer  than  a  day  or  so  at 
a  time,  during  the  last  ten  years.  The  "  Interurban  '' 
lumbered  along  at  a  great  rate,  picking  up  as  it  ad- 
vanced towards  Cambridge,  increasing  numbers  of 
nice-looking  people  about  whom  there  was  a  gala  and 
expectant  air  so  pronounced  that  Cook  presently 
passed  from  an  approving  wonder  at  the  growth  and 
enterprise  of  the  i)opulation  since  his  day  to  the  con- 
jecture that  all  these  worthy  pilgrims  were  bound  to 
the  commencement  likewise,  to  see  Thomas,  Richard 
or  Henry  get  his  degree.  There  were  automobiles, 
too,  heading  in  the  same  direction ;  they  could  be  seen 
all  morning,  spinning  like  mechanical  toys  on  a  white, 
dusty  pin-stripe  of  road  that  paralleled  the  traction- 


6  THE  RUDDER 

line  at  half  a  mile's  distance  —  the  Jeffersonville 
Pike,  as  Cook's  seat-mate  informed  him. 

^^  Oh,  yes,  of  course !  I  remember  it  now !  "  the  au- 
thor ejaculated  in  sudden  recognition.  "  I  used  to 
take  bicycle  rides  out  that  way  years  ago.  It  was  al- 
ways a  good  road." 

"  They're  saying  all  the  roads  will  be  made  better 
now  these  motor  cars  have  come  —  so  many  people'll 
be  wanting  a  good  road  to  ride  on,  you  know,''  his 
neighbour  remarked.  "  And  that's  a  good  thing  any- 
w^ays,"  he  added  with  enthusiasm.  ^'  Good  roads  is 
a  grand  thing  for  the  country  entirely." 

" —  a  gr-rand  thing  for  the  counthry  intoirely,"  was 
what  he  really  said;  and  the  richness  of  this  accent, 
the  cast  of  the  speech  itself,  taken  with  various  other 
slight  signs,  such  as  his  hearty  colour,  his  long, 
strong,  comic-cartoon  jaw,  his  blunt  nose  and  quick, 
bright  blue  eyes,  sufficiently  indicated  his  nationality 
—  or  at  least  his  very  recent  descent  —  to  Mr.  Cook, 
who  now  looked  at  him  for  the  first  time,  though  they 
had  been  travelling  in  company  since  the  car  left 
town.  The  novelist  also  noted  that  his  companion 
was  heroically  arrayed,  regardless  of  the  thermome- 
ter, in  a  new  frock-coat  and  new  light  trousers  of 
expensive  cloth  and  cut,  with  shining  new  shoes  on 
his  rather  prominent  and  unmanageable  feet,  with  a 
huge  seal-ring  on  the  little  finger  of  one  of  his  heavy 
red  fists,  with  a  tie  of  the  best  quality  of  silk,  bro- 
caded in  lively  hues  on  a  green  background,  and 
finally  with  a  top-hat  which,  however,  was  mani- 
festly almost  too  much  for  him  to  endure,  notwith- 
standing his  proved  strength  of  mind  and  body.  He 
had  shoved  it  inelegantly  backwards  and  sidewise,  and 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE      7 

the  crimson  mark  it  had  made  showed  ou  his  forehead 
and  even  around  the  back  of  his  honest  bullet-head 
under  the  thin,  grizzled-sandy  hair.  He  met  Cook's 
e^'e  with  an  expression  of  tentative  good-fellowship. 

"  Hot  day/'  said  the  man  of  letters,  prompted  by 
the  other's  appearance. 

''  It  is  that  I     And  the  crowd  makes  it  worse.'' 

**  Yes.  Is  it  always  this  way,  or  is  there  some- 
thing going  on  somewhere? "  Cook  asked  experi- 
mentally, with  the  cunning  of  his  trade.  He  had  the 
name  of  being  a  photogTaphically  accurate  student  of 
character  and  manners,  acquired,  he  would  some- 
times maintain,  by  the  observance  of  a  single  simple 
rule,  namely :  make  the  other  fellow  talk ! 

In  this  case,  the  other  fellow  responded  with  grati- 
fying willingness.  He  said  sure  there  were  going  to 
be  grand  doings  at  the  College  up  yonder  at  Cam- 
bridge, graduating  exercises  for  the  young  men,  the 
seniors,  as  they  called  um.  They  all  got  a  paper,  a 
cert'f'cate  like,  to  show  they  was  all  through  and 
done  with  ut  and  in  good  standing.  'Twas  give  to 
um  in  style  with  speeches  and  music  and  all  the  lads' 
fathers  and  mothers  and  slathers  of  girls  besides, 
only  of  course  nobody  was  looking  at  them  —  he 
winked  with  a  sidelong  glance  of  vast  rogiiishness  — 
sitting  in  the  seats  and  applauding.  It  beat  every- 
thing how  much  the  boys  thought  of  them  diplomys. 
They  framed  um  and  hung  um  up  in  the  parlour.  He 
said  that  for  all  the  good  that  did  um  towards  getting 
a  job,  it  was  like  them  signs  the  Board  of  Health  puts 
up  where  there's  measles  or  the  like  — '^  Keep  Out  "  ! 
He  chuckled  and  fetched  Cook  a  jog  in  the  ribs  with 
Ms  elbow;  then,  on  a  second  thought,  explained  with 


S  THE  RUDDER 

some  earnestness,  that  this  unfeeling  levity  was  "  all 
put  on." 

"  A  young  fellow'll  be  that  solemn,  you  can't,  for 
the  soul  of  you,  keep  from  teasing  him  a  little.  By 
the  same  token  he'll  find  out  there's  some  truth  to  the 
joke,  as  he  goes  along,  poor  boy ! "  he  finished,  with  a 
dash  of  the  truly  Celtic  underlying  melancholy;  and 
hauled  out  a  mighty  gold  watch,  and  consulted  it. 
^^  We're  near  there." 

In  fact,  the  brick  tower  of  the  city  hall  of  Cam- 
bridge now"  showed  intermittently  between  the  hills 
and  tree-tops,  and  though  the  road  had  not  yet  be- 
come a  street,  houses  were  thicker  on  both  sides  of 
it.  The  journey  w^as  almost  over.  Cook  realised,  pri- 
vately bestowing  a  spirited  anathema  on  his  own  in- 
difference and  want  of  diligence.  Here  he  had  been 
side  by  side  with  this  gem  of  an  Irishman  for  the 
better  part  of  a  whole  morning,  and  had  got  nothing 
out  of  him!  And  the  man  was  of  a  type  ordinarily 
not  easy  for  the  inquisitive  novelist  to  get  at ;  he  had 
a  shrewd  face,  full  of  sense  and  character,  and  to 
have  caught  him  in  so  expansive  a  mood  was  a  real 
stroke  of  luck,  recognised,  alas,  too  late. 

However,  better  late  than  not  at  all !  "  Got  a  boy 
up  there  yourself,  I  guess?"  he  suggested  amiably; 
and  was  rewarded  by  an  answer  of  unfathomable 
pride  and  satisfaction  at  once  a  little  funny  and  a 
little  touching. 

"  I  have,  sir.  It's  the  four  years'  course  he's  taken 
in  three,  and  him  only  twenty -one  last  January.  He's 
to  speak  the  —  the  vallydictorium  speech,  too.  It 
seems  that's  a  great  honour,  according  to  how  the 
young  fellows  look  at  it  —  not  that  it  means  anything 
much  to  me/'  he  interpolated,  affecting  a  tolerant 


THE  RETURN  OF  TDE  NATIVE      9 

disinterestedness.  "  Dad  gets  set  back  forty  or  fifty 
dollars  for  one  of  these  black  silk  gowns  and  dinky 
little  caps  they've  got  to  wear,  besides  all  the  rest  of 
the  foolishness  —  banquets  and  athaletics  and  all  — 
everybody  w^orks  but  Father,  hey  ?  "  He  drew  up  one 
eye  and  the  corresponding  corner  of  his  mouth  hu- 
morously. '^  Looks  like  it  was  up  to  Father  most  of 
the  time  these  days.  I  was  for  hiring  the  gow^n,  my- 
self—  there's  places  where  you  can  do  that,  and  as 
long  as  Tim  —  I  mean  Chauncey  —  as  long  as  the  lad 
never  w^ears  it  but  the  once,  what's  the  differ?  You'd 
have  thought  I'd  insulted  uni  just  to  hint  at  it !  His 
mother  was  the  worst.  ^  Look  at  all  the  money  ye've 
spent  already,  fifteen  hundred  dollars  if  it's  a  cent ! ' 
she  says.  ^  A  little  more  won't  be  a  drop  in  the 
bucket!  And  annyways,'  she  says,  turning  my  own 
w  ords  against  me,  '  it's  only  once  in  a  lifetime,  and 
God  knows  ye  don't  want  to  grudge  your  son  nothing, 
when  ye'll  never  have  the  chance  again ! '  " 

"  That's  so !  "  said  Cook  with  a  warmth  not  w^holly 
assumed,  though,  at  the  same  instant,  he  was  won- 
dering ironically  whether  this  brave  fellow  might  not 
have  many,  many  more  chances  to  spend  money  on  his 
boy.     "  She  had  you  there !  " 

"  She  did !  After  that  I'd  nothing  to  do  but  hold 
my  tongue  and  pay  up  like  a  man.  Well,  well,  he'll 
maybe  be  handing  that  same  gown  on  to  his  own  son 
for  him  to  graduate  in,  some  day.  That's  more  than 
my  father  could  do  for  me  —  a  whole  lot  more,  as  the 
kids  do  be  saying  in  their  slang  talk.  It  was  little 
enough  school  I  had,  leave  alone  college  and  com- 
mencements and  sw^ally-tail  coats  and  black  silk 
gowns  and  all."  He  gave  a  kind  of  humorous  sigh. 
"  Education's  a  grand  thing,  though,  ain't  it?  " 


10  THE  RUDDEE 

"  It  is  indeed,  tlie  greatest  thing  there  is.  Isn't 
your  wife  with  yon?  Isn't  she  going  to  the  com- 
mencement, too?'' 

^'  Going,  is  it? ''  echoed  the  other,  much  amused. 
^^  Is  she  going?  As  if  you  could  head  her  off  with 
dinnamite  or  a  pick-axe!  All  the  child  she's  got  in 
the  world !  Yes,  she's  going.  She's  back  there."  He 
jerked  a  species  of  reversed  nod  towards  the  rear 
seats ;  and  the  car  coming  to  a  halt  at  that  moment  to 
take  on  another  troop  of  commencement  visitors,  both 
men  got  up  to  accommodate  some  of  the  women  pas- 
sengers. They  accomplished  what  was  left  of  the 
trip  squeezed  between  others  in  the  aisle,  and  clinging 
to  the  straps;  so  that  their  exchange  of  confidences 
broke  off  abruptly,  to  the  author's  regTet. 

He  promised  himself  to  keep  an  eye  out  for  Mrs. 
Irishman  and  for  the  valedictorian,  the  hero  of  the 
ceremonies,  when  the  family  should  be  united ;  but  in 
the  confusion  of  the  final  stopping-place,  they  escaped 
him.  Indeed,  they  went  out  of  his  mind  altogether. 
There  was  no  station  building  at  Cambridge ;  the  "  In- 
terurban  "  merely  stopped  dead  in  the  middle  of  the 
village  main  street,  and  incidentally  of  a  consider- 
able gathering  of  those  nice-looking  people  whom 
Cook  had  previously  remarked.  They  were  now  de- 
barking from  his  own  car  and  half  a  dozen  more,  lined 
up  on  the  tracks  and  switch,  and  from  the  automobiles 
and  innumerable  horse- vehicles  at  the  curb ;  and  wei'e 
being  met  by  other  nice-looking  people  in  surprising 
force.  Young  men  sprang  up  in  squads ;  ever}^ where 
at  least  two  girls  bloomed  where  only  one  or  none  at  all 
had  bloomed  before;  the  college  pennant  waved  mul- 
titudinously ;  the  college  yell  exploded  regularly  with 
magnificent  vim  and  precision;  and  as  the  celebrity 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE     11 

himself  set  foot  on  the  ground,  a  toy  balloon  striped 
with  the  college  colours  bumped  lightly  against  his 
hat,  knocking  it  over  his  eyes,  and  soared  away. 
Somebody  who  was  already  shaking  his  hand,  gave  an 
exclamation  of  concern. 

''Mr.  Cook,  I  believe? —  Oh,  how^  annoying  I  — 
Where  did  that  thing  come  from? —  Fm  so  sorry, 
I'm  sure  it  wasn't  intended  —  you  see  we're  in  a  great 
deal  of  excitement,  of  course  —  is  your  hat  all  right? 
My  name  is  Chadwick  —  we've  had  some  correspond- 
ence, you  perhaps  remember?  It's  a  very  great  jjleas- 
ure  to  have  you  here,  Mr.  Cook ;  we  were  highly  grati- 
fied when  you  consented  to  come.     We  turn  this  way 

—  this  young  man  is  my  son  —  Jimmie,  take  Mr. 
Cook's  bag.  Oh,  yes,  you  must  really  let  him  have  it. 
I'm  afraid  James  hasn't  read  any  of  your  work,  Mr. 
Cook.  His  taste  in  literature  runs  just  now  to  bio- 
graphies of  Black  Bill,  the  Bandit  Baron  of  Big  Butte 

—  hey,  Jim?     Ah-hal" 

Cook  eyed  the  youngster,  who  stood  before  him, 
swinging  the  valise,  reddening  through  his  tan  and 
freckles,  difiSdent  but  refreshingly  unimpressed. 
"  '  An  author  by  the  river's  brim  a  simple  author  w^as 
to  him ' —  and  so  forth  and  so  on,"  said  the  visitor, 
with  relish.  "  If  I  were  only  Mr.  Christy  Matthewson 
now  —  I  "  at  which  mildly  satirical  insinuation  the 
father  laughed  inordinately.  Master  James  turned  a 
deeper  red  still,  stood  on  one  foot  in  order  to  tickle 
his  ankle  with  the  other,  and  at  length  remarked, 

They  cleared  the  crowd,  and  started  off  for  Pro- 
fessor Chadwick's  house  —  moral  philosophy  was  his 
chair,  it  presently  developed  —  where  there  was  to  be 
luncheon  and  Mr.  Cook  would  meet  the  Dean  and 


12  THE  RUDDER 

other  members  of  the  college  staff.  From  almost  any 
quarter  of  the  little  town  you  might  see  the  campus; 
there  were  good  old  beech  and  linden  trees,  and  a 
bronze  fountain  presided  over  by  a  representation  of 
the  founder,  his  watch-chain  and  whiskers  done  to  the 
life,  one  hand  resting  upon  an  open  folio,  the  other 
spread  abroad  in  the  gesture  habitual  (presumably) 
to  all  American  public  men  of  whom  statues  are 
erected.  The  stone  buildings  of  the  college  were  pret- 
tily draped  with  vines,  ivy  and  honeysuckles  and 
drooping  purple  panicles  of  wistaria;  here  were  Cen- 
tral Hall,  the  Old  Dormitory,  the  Library,  Shelborne's, 
and  so  on  —  the  professor  pointed  them  out  in  turn. 
"  Our  stadium  is  down  in  that  direction,"  he  said,  wav- 
ing a  hand ;  "  you  can't  see  it  from  here.  It's  consid- 
ered to  be  very  well  equipped  —  cinder  track,  a  foot- 
ball and  baseball  field,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  you 
know,  on  quite  a  large  scale.  The  Cothurnus  gave 
their  play  there  this  year,  because  of  the  space  and 
the  general  effect  —  it  was  Julius  Cwsar.^^ 

''  That  was  a  good  selection  —  almost  all  male  parts. 
The  women  are  negligible." 

Chadwick  smiled.  "  In  point  of  fact,  they  elimi- 
nated Portia  and  Calpurnia  altogether !  And  even 
Mrs.  Chadwick  had  to  admit  that  the  play  got  along 
perfectly  smoothly  without  them.  The  boys  did  sur- 
prisingly well ;  it  was  really  very  good,  especially  the 
forum  scene.  Young  Devitt,  the  young  fellow  that 
was  Marc  Antony,  was  quite  rousing.  Of  course  it's 
a  great  acting  part,  and  I  suppose  nobody  could  en- 
tirely spoil  those  wonderful  lines,  but  he  did  his  '  hon- 
ourable men  '  admirably.  I  thought  we  had  turned 
up  a  histrionic  genius,  but  it  seems  that  he  had  seen 
the  Ben  Greet  pla.yers,  and  modelled  his  Antony  on 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  13 

theirs  —  which  showed  some  taste,  if  no  originality. 
Devitt  is  one  of  our  brightest  men,  however  —  took 
honours  in  English.  He's  very  anxious  to  meet  you ; 
they  all  are,  naturally.'' 

Cook  uttered  a  polite  deprecatory  murmur,  wonder- 
ing meanwhile  if  they  had  ever  heard  of  him,  and  the 
other  went  on :  "  After  the  exercises,  we  always  have 
a  reception  for  the  graduating  class  and  their  families. 
I  hope  you  won't  find  it  fatiguing.  You  say  you 
just  got  in  from  the  East  this  morning? "  He 
accompanied  this  with  an  inquiring  glance  (of  which 
he  was  probably  quite  unconscious)  at  the  guest's 
neat  toilette:  Cook  was  a  rather  finicking  little 
man. 

"  Yes,  but  I  went  to  a  hotel  and  had  a  general  fresh- 
ening-up  —  I'm  not  at  all  tired,  thank  you,"  he  ex- 
plained, not  without  inward  amusement.  "  I  was 
quite  prepared  for  a  hot,  dusty,  sooty  trip.  We  all 
of  us  know  what  travel  in  this  part  of  the  country  is 
like." 

"  Yes.  It's  not  so  bad  when  one  is  used  to  it.  I'm 
from  Wisconsin  myself."  Mr.  Chadwick  hesitated, 
then  added  with  some  civil  curiosity :  "I  was  under 
the  impression  that  you  had  your  home  here  still,  Mr. 
Cook  —  in  Cincinnati,  I  mean,  of  course.  In  fact,^ 
I'm  quite  sure  we  forwarded  some  mail  to  you  there.. 
I  hope  there  hasn't  been  any  mistake  made  about  that 

—  you  went  to  a  hotel  — ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  that's  all  right —  I'll  get  it  —  it's  quite 
safe,  I'm  sure,  and  probably  of  no  importance  anyway. 
Why,  I  used  to  live  here  —  with  my  sister  —  a  mar- 
ried sister  and  her  family.  She  is  dead  now ;  but  the 
rest  of  them  are  still  here,  and  I  expect  to  visit  them 

—  my  nieces,  that  is  —  while  I'm  here.     The  name  is 


14  THE  EUDDER 

rather  unusual  —  Maranda,  you  perhaps  remem- 
ber— ?  They  live  on  the  North  Hill.  I  didn't  go 
out  there  this  morning  —  didn't  want  to  disturb  them 
so  early  —  it's  a  household  of  women." 

"  I  see.  I  was  alarmed  for  a  minute,  figuring  some 
invaluable  manuscript  going  floating  off  around  the 
country  and  finally  bringing  up  at  the  Dead  Letter 
Ofiiee !     We  have  to  cross  here  — '^ 

It  was  a  "  stand-up  luncheon  " ;  Cook  afterwards 
gave  a  very  sprightly  description  of  the  same  sort  of 
function  in  his  novel  Julia  Denhy^s  Career^  hitting  off 
the  Faculty  and  the  Faculty's  wives  and  daughters, 
and  the  coffee  and  sandwiches  and  little  cakes  and 
salad  and  ices,  and  the  people  who  asked  him  what 
he  was  working  at  now,  and  the  other  people  who  told 
him  of  wonderful  places  to  get  "  material "  in  that 
style  of  good-natured  satire  for  which  he  had  some 
reputation.  "  Brilliant  studies  of  dulness  "  one  critic*^ 
had  called  his  stories ;  and  Cook  himself  used  to  make 
a  quaint  picture  of  his  own  mind  running  about,  busily 
picking  up  and  storing  away  unconsidered  trifles 
which  it  later  rummaged  out,  furbished  up,  and 
patched  and  pieced  together  into  something  service- 
able, like  any  thrifty  housewife  in  a  garret.  He  did 
not  know  —  so  he  said  —  whether  this  was  a  gift  or 
a  mere  habit,  but  its  activities,  sometimes  practical 
and  sometimes  not,  were  continually  surprising  him- 
self. 

(i  We're  expecting  a  great  treat  this  afternoon,  Mr. 
Cook,"  one  lady  said  to  him  with  engaging  earnestness. 
^^  Of  course,  it's  like  all  the  other  good  things  in  this 
life—" 

"  Best  in  anticipation?  " 

^^  No,  no  —  why,  how  horrid !     I  meant  it's  onlv  to 


THE  RETUEN  OF  THE  NATIVE     15 

be  won  after  we  have  done  our  appointed  share  of 
suffering  in  patience.  You  know  we  have  to  sit 
through  the  valedictory  before  we  come  to  youJ' 

"  The  valedictory?  "  said  Cook  alertly;  and  he  was 
about  to  ask  a  question,  when  some  one  else  spoke  — 
one  of  the  professors,  as  it  happened. 

''  Sitting  through  one  valedictory  isn't  such  an  or- 
deal," he  said,  stirring  his  cup  with  a  reminiscent  air. 
'"  Suppose  you  had  to  sit  through  three  hundred  and 
odd  I  That  was  what  happened  at  my  college  up  here 
at  — "  he  named  the  place  — "  until  a  few  years  ago, 
when  they  mercifully  suspended  the  practice.  Every 
graduate  had  to  make  a  speech  in  my  time  —  only 
about  ten  minutes  long,  you  know,  but  everybody  had 
to  have  his  say.  It  lasted  two  daj^s  or  so.  They  took 
you  in  alphabetical  order.  All  your  family  and 
friends  were  there,  of  course,  from  A  to  Andsoforth." 
He  stirred  again,  and  added  without  a  smile :  "  My 
name  is  Wilson.  I  had  a  large  audience  —  large,  rel- 
atively speaking,  that  is.  There  was  one  man  in  the 
class  named  Zieloncka." 

"Ah?     He  was  all  that  was  left  of  them  — left  of 
three  hundred !  " 

"  Just  so,  sir !  "  And  here  Cook  was  again  about 
to  ask  his  question,  but  the  other  again  unwittingly  in- 
tervened. "Nowadays  the  boys  have  just  as  much 
to  do,  and  by  the  time  Commencement  week  is  over, 
we're  all  just  as  much  exhausted,  but  in  an  entirely 
different  way.  I  wonder  if  Mrs.  Chadwick  has  any 
of  the  leaflets  with  the  programmes  left,  the  ones  they 
give  to  visitors  — ?  I  should  like  Mr.  Cook  to  see  — " 
He  looked  about  vaguely,  but  the  supply  of  pro- 
gi-ammes  seemed  to  have  failed.  However,  young  Mr. 
James  Chadwick  chanced  to  pass  at  that  moment, 


16  THE  RUDDER 

munching  a  sandwich,  and  being  appealed  to,  halted 
obligingly. 

"  Yep.  I  got  one  —  only  you  can't  have  it  for  keeps, 
because  I  want  it  myself/'  he  said,  crammed  the  last 
bite  into  his  mouth,  and  fished  out  a  document  at 
sight  of  which  the  lady  gave  a  dainty  exclamation. 

"  Oh,  Jimmie!  Couldn't  you  get  Mr.  Cook  a  clean 
one?     That's  dreadful !  " 

Jimmie  divided  a  glance  of  masculine  impatience 
between  the  other  two.  ^^  I  ain't  going  to  give  it  to 
him  anyway.  He  just  wants  to  knoiv,  that's  all,"  said 
he;  and  opened  the  leaflet,  and  pointed  with  a  stubby 
little  grimy  forefinger.  "  That's  the  track  events. 
That's  what  you  wanted,  didn't  you?  The  reason  it 
looks  mussed  up  is  I  wrote  all  the  fellows'  names  that 
won,  you  know,  and  it  was  a  blue  indelible  pencil  and 
some  soda-water  got  spilled  on  it  afterwards  so  the 
blue  kind  of  ran  all  over  it,  but  you  can  read  'em  still," 
he  explained  seriously  and  confidentially  to  Cook's 
thorough  delight. 

"  Oh,  yes,  easily,"  said  the  latter  with  equal  gravity, 
following  Jimmie's  Isabella-hued  finger-nail.  "  The 
hundred-yard  dash  was  won  by  a  man  named  Stokes, 
I  see." 

"  No,  that's  Stone.  Watch  out  for  the  creases,  or 
she'll  come  in  two !  That's  Putting-the-Shot  next  — 
Loring  got  that  —  Amzi  Loring  II  —  see?  He's  a  big 
fellow ;  he  plays  left  field  on  the  team  —  not  the  class 
team,  the  college  team.  I  guess  he's  going  into  pro- 
fessional ball  — " 

"  Incidentally  Loring  is  one  of  our  graduates  to-day, 
Mr.  Cook,"  said  Wilson  drily ;  "  a  very  great  ornament 
to  the  class,  as  you  may  infer." 

"  Don't  you  think  your  mother  may  be  needing  you, 


THE  RETUKN  OF  THE  NATIVE     17 

Jimmie?  "  the  lady  sii«:gested ;  "you  can  leave  your 
programme  with  Mr.  Cook."  She  had  been,  to  say  the 
truth,  grievously  disillusioned  by  this  small  episode. 
"  I  supposed  of  course  he  would  be  interesting,  or  at 
least,  different/'  she  said  afterwards  in  intimacy; 
"  but  ever  so  many  of  the  literary  people  I've  met  have 
been  rather  commonplace.     Isn't  it  queer?  " 

"  Just  a  minute,  Jimmie/'  the  disappointing  person 
now  said.  ''  Tell  me  about  some  of  these  others. 
What's  all  this,  for  instance?  " 

The  leaf  he  had  turned  was  in  tolerable  condition 
and  unpencilled.  Jimmie  craned  over  to  inspect  it. 
*'  Oh,  that!  That  isn't  anything  —  it  just  tells  what 
thev're  ^i^oino'  to  do  to-dav,"  he  announced.  And  sure 
enough,  Cook  read : 

Invocation 
By  The  DEA^' 

Music 

Oh,  holy  day,  oh,  happy  day ! Standish 

Quartette  and  chorus  for  male  voices 
Cambridge  College  Choib 

Valedictory   Address 
T.  Chauncey  Devitt 

Cook  paused.  ^'  Chauncey  "  and  ^'  Devitt  "  I  His 
housewife's  memory  gi'oped  an  instant,  then  tr-iumph- 
antly  pounced  upon  and  dragged  forth  all  that  he  had 
overheard  concerning  those  two  names.  "  Chauncey  " 
—  he  actually  remembered  the  father's  "  Tim  —  I 
mean  Chauncey — "  was  of  course  the  valedictorian, 
but  he  was  in  all  probability  Marc  Antony,  too. 

"  Well,  now,  this  is  interesting,"  he  said  to  Profes- 
sor Wilson.  "  I  was  just  about  to  ask  you  the  valedic- 
torian's name  — "  and  he  gave  the  other  some  account 
of  the  acquaintance  he  had  scraped  that  morning. 


18  THE  EUDDER 

Chadwick  came  up  to  them  and  listened  and  nodded 
his  head  at  the  last. 

"  I've  never  met  Devitt's  family  —  I  understand 
the  father  is  a  road-contractor  —  a  superintendent  of 
road-building,  or  something  of  that  sort/'  he  said 
vaguely.  "  I  daresay  he  —  er  —  came  up  from  the 
ranks,  as  so  many  do  —  a  self-made  man.  That's  the 
best  product  of  our  civilisation  —  eh,  don't  you  think 
so?  I  dislike  to  hurry  you,  Mr.  Cook,  but  we  must 
start  presently.     Whenever  you're  ready  — ?  " 

As  they  began  to  move,  Wilson  said,  ^'  You'll  meet 
Devitt  senior  again  this  afternoon,  Mr.  Cook,  and  what 
then?  I  tremble  for  you.  He'll  regard  you  as  a  kind 
of  literary  confidence-man,  won't  he?  " 

"  I  doubt  very  much  if  he  recognises  me,"  said  the 
author  serenely.  "  He'll  be  too  much  taken  up  with 
his  wonderful,  splendiferous,  valedictory ing  son.  Do 
you  know  the  young  man?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course.  I  had  him  in  Romance 
Languages.  A  prodigious  grind.  I've  seen  brighter 
men,  but  I  never  saw  any  man  work  harder.  Indus- 
try is  a  good  deal  more  welcome  to  the  average  teacher 
than  cleverness  —  not  that  either  commodit}^  is  very 
abundant !  Of  course  I  don't  mean  to  say  that  young 
Devitt  is  dull  —  not  at  all !  I  only  mean  he's  not  so 
bright  as  some  of  the  other  men  that  haven't  done 
nearly  so  well.  That's  a  contradiction  that  one  often 
meets  with  in  a  class-room.  The  tortoises  are  forever 
outstripping  the  hares.  No  calamitous  sense  of 
humour  to  get  in  the  wa}^,  and  interfere  with  serious 
study,  you  know;  no  foolhardy  seeking  after 
novelty — "  He  wound  up  his  half-ironical  words 
with  a  descent  into  slang.  "  Give  me  the  tortoises 
every  time !  " 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE     19 

"  Somehow  or  other  ^  T.  Chauncev '  doesn't  sound 
to  me  at  all  bright,"  said  Cook.  "  '  T.  Chauncey ' — 
eh?''  He  fixed  a  quizzical  eye  on  the  other,  who 
shrugged. 

"  Oh  well  I    A  very  young  man,  you  know  — '^ 

But  Cook  was  unappeased.  "  '  T.  Chauncey  '  is  al- 
together too  stylish,''  he  said  solemnly,  shaking  his 
head,  and  Wilson  himself  laughed  unwillingly. 

Later,  on  the  platform  in  Central  Hall,  before  the 
embanked  faces,  while  the  organ  purred  low  and 
melodiously  and  the  graduates  filed  in  two  by  two  in 
their  newly  mounted  regalia  black  and  flossing  and 
rustling  gTavely,  Cook  felt  a  sudden  sense  of  levity 
rebuked.  Good  Heaven,  he  thought,  what  pain,  what 
toil,  what  sacrifice,  what  anguish  of  doubts  and  hopes, 
what  pathetic  faith,  those  rows  on  rows  of  fathers  and 
mothers  embodied  I  And  what  defenceless  ignorance, 
what  pitiful  cocksure  egotism  and  ambition  and  heart- 
breaking confidence  these  poor  bedecked  lads  I  He 
stood  with  the  others,  bowing  his  head  during  the 
prayer,  and  thinking :  "  I  would  not  say  those  things. 
I  would  not  beseech  the  Almighty  for  grace  or  help; 
I'd  ask  Him  just  to  give  the  boys  a  little  luck.  It 
makes  no  difference  how  great  a  young  man's  endow- 
ment, or  how  good  a  start  he  gets,  we've  all  got  to 
have  a  little  luck  to  weather  it  through.''  Perhaps 
he  did  put  up  some  such  simple  petition  for  them, 
remembering  his  own  youth,  and  a  hundred  shabby 
mistakes ;  and  sat  down  not  a  little  moved.  Nobody 
else  was,  apparently,  in  the  slightest  degree,  he  ob- 
served, glancing  around  the  semi-circle  of  professors ; 
nothing  to  get  maudlin  over  from  their  breadwinners' 
point  of  view.  Cook  reminded  himself,  regaining  his 
normal  mood.     While  the  quartette  and  chorus  thun- 


20  THE  RUDDER 

dered  holiness  and  happiness  from  somewhere  to  the 
rear  of  the  stage,  he  searched  for  his  Irishman,  and 
erelong  discovered  him  looming  very  big  on  a  front 
seat,  with  his  fists  planted  squarely  on  his  knees,  radi- 
ating content,  a  sight  to  warm  the  heart.  Alongside 
was  another  person  whom  Cook  identified  without 
any  trouble  as  the  mother,  terrifically  corseted,  con- 
scious, unsmiling,  much  more  sophisticated  and  con- 
ventional than  her  husband,  whose  appearance  and 
behaviour,  the  author  guessed,  were  giving  her  gnaw- 
ing anxieties.  She  whispered  to  him,  and  Mr.  Devitt, 
bending  down  painfully,  bestowed  his  silk  hat  (which 
he  had  informally  hung  over  the  arm  of  the  chair)  in 
the  holder  underneath;  anon  she  whispered  again 
energetically,  and  he  got  out  a  vast  handkerchief  and 
diligently  exercised  it  on  his  chin  and  short,  project- 
ing moustache ;  once  more  she  whispered,  and  he  obe- 
diently readjusted  himself,  sitting  rigidly  upright,  and 
straightening  his  cuffs,  his  tie,  his  waistcoat  under 
her  exacting  eye.  Cook  fancied  he  saw  in  the  pan- 
tomime, joined  to  what  he  already  knew  of  them,  a 
complete  register  of  this  couple's  married  life,  of  their 
individual  characters  and  aspirations.  Again  he 
sharply  regretted  his  negligence  that  morning.  "  I 
might  have  met  the  wife  too,  if  I  had  had  my  wits 
about  me !  "  he  lamented  inwardly.  "  Nov/  it's  all  off ! 
The  minute  she  knows  I'm  '  Mr.  Cook,  the  author,' 
she'll  mount  guard.  It  was  a  chance  in  a  thousand. 
That  family  is  a  whole  text-book  with  illustrations  — 
son  and  all,  very  likely." 

Upon  the  instant,  he  became  aware  with  a  start  that 
the  music  had  ended,  that  even  the  applause  was  tap- 
ering off,  and  that  the  valedictorian  was  already  on 
his  feet,  in  a  pose  by  the  little  table  with  the  classic 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  21 

tumbler  of  water  on  it,  about  to  begin.  The  novelist 
looked  at  T.  Chaunce^^  hard,  finding  himself  unexpect- 
edly impressed.  Young  Devitt  did  not  at  all  resemble 
either  parent ;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  slight  and  tall 
with  a  shock  of  black  hair,  cavernous  black  eyes,  a 
sallow  face  hectically  touched  with  colour  just  now, 
and  a  general  appearance  of  ill-health  about  which 
there  was  something  singularly  dramatic.  When  he 
moved  he  limped  perceptibly,  without  somehow  sug- 
gesting either  deformity  or  injury,  only  suffering 
borne  with  for-titude,  put  out  of  mind  by  sheer  resolu- 
tion. That  or  some  other  indefinable  quality  about 
his  tense  presence  brought  before  the  mind  the  figure 
of  Genius  as  most  of  us  conceive  it,  ruthlesslv  self- 
subduing,  burning  out  body  and  soul  on  some  altar  of 
high  endeavour.  The  fancy  was  ratified,  as  it  were, 
by  the  detachment  of  his  manner ;  he  made  his  address 
from  memory  in  a  fine,  clear,  resonant  voice,  com- 
posedly, but  ^dthout  any  sort  of  forwardness  or  undue 
assurance.  It  was  as  if  he  thoroughly  realised  his 
position  of  untried  youth  preaching  at  its  elders,  but 
was  too  much  in  earnest  about  what  he  had  to  sav 
to  make  any  bids  for  tolerance  or  sympathy.  The 
audience  paid  him  the  tribute  of  genuine  attention, 
and  there  was  nothing  perfunctory  in  the  long  roll  of 
applause  at  the  end;  it  was  charged  with  real  inter- 
est, real  admiration  which  the  young  man  accepted 
^\i.th  the  same  strikingly  serious-minded  and  single- 
hearted  air,  bowing  gravely  and  taking  the  laurel 
w^reath  which  some  one  handed  to  him  over  the  edge 
of  the  stage,  and  returning  to  his  chair  with  his  halt- 
ing step,  unobtrusively  significant. 

"He  did  very  well,  don't  you  think?"  Wilson  re- 
marked in  the  author's  ear,  under  cover  of  the  next 


22  THE  RUDDER 

musical  selection.  ^^  One  was  never  in  momentary 
terror  of  his  breaking  down.  Nothing  epoch-making 
about  the  speech,  to  be  sure  —  in  fact,  without  Shake- 
speare and  the  Bible  and  a  few  minor  reservoirs  of 
quotation,  I  don't  know  where  the  speech  would  have 
been  I  " 

"  Without  them,  nobody  knows  where  any  speech 
would  be ! ''  said  Cook  grimly.     It  was  his  turn  next. 

^K  .  .  It  belongs  to  our  later  years  and  to  our  wider 
vision  of  life  to  discover  that  .  .  .''  etc.  ".  .  .  To  you 
young  men,  I  preach  no  supine  nor  spiritless  policy 
when  I  say  that  we  must  all  inevitably  encounter  some 
unendurable  circumstances  that  must  nevertheless  be 
endured,  some  intolerable  conditions  that  must 
whether  or  no  be  tolerated.  It  is  our  part  not  to 
struggle  under  the  trial,  any  more  than  to  seek  to 
evade  it;  rather  let  us  carry  it  if  we  must,  emerge 
from  it  if  w^e  may,  with  our  greatest  care  to  possess 
ourselves  in  spiritual  freedom,  unbroken  and  undis- 
honoured  .  .  ."  etc.  ".  .  .  In  the  w^ords  of  Seneca's 
pilot :  ^  O  Neptune,  you  may  save  me  if  you  will, 
you  may  sink  me  if  you  will,  but  come  what  may,  I 
will  hold  the  rudder  true ! '  " 

Thus  —  and  Avith  a  good  deal  more  in  the  same  vein 
—  did  Mr.  Cook  discourse  for  his  appointed  hour,  and 
received  his  meed  of  applause  at  the  close  with  the 
wary  and  good-humoured  cynicism  in  which  he  had 
trained  himself.  The  end  of  any  speech  was  always 
w^elcome,  he  would  say ;  this  time  he  added*  mentally, 
smiling  at  his  own  conceit,  that  really  that  peroration 
w^as  very  neat  —  it  would  scarcel}^  have  been  i^ossible 
to  pick  out  anything  neater  or  more  appropriate  to 
the  occasion !  And,  in  fact,  he  was  repeatedly  assured 
of  this  afterwards  when  numbers  of  people  came  and 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  23 

complimented  and  thanked  liim,  and  told  him  how 
illuminating  his  words  had  been. 

This  was  during  the  reception  which  took  place  on 
the  platform  immediately  after  the  conferring  of  the 
degrees,  and  after  the  Cambridge  College  Choir  had 
performed  for  the  final  time  (Alma  Mater ,  IlaiJ  and 
Farewell !)  their  song  merging  into  the  Doxology. 
The  next  moment  everybody  was  in  motion ;  the  chairs 
and  benches  scraped  thunderously;  there  was  much 
hand-shaking,  some  kissing,  some  furtive  shedding  of 
tears,  an  exchange  of  felicitations  between  parents, 
teachers,  pupils.  In  the  middle  of  it  all,  the  gradu- 
ates were  brought  up  for  introduction,  one  after  the 
other,  and  Professor  Wilson,  to  whom  the  office  had 
fallen,  presently  said :  ^'  Mr.  Cook,  you  remember 
our  honour  man,  I'm  sure?  "  And  Cook  shook  hands 
with  his  fellow-orator,  making  a  light  reference  to 
their  fellowship. 

^^  Arcades  amho!  —  eh?  "  said  he.  ^'  I  was  in  a  mis- 
erable panic,  weren't  you? '' 

"  No,  I  was  not  frightened,"  said  the  dark  youth 
gravely,  fixing  his  profound  black  eyes  on  Cook  with 
an  interest  so  intense  as  to  be  rather  disconcerting; 
it  aroused  in  the  latter  a  vivid  feeling  of  protest. 
"  Good  Lord,  my  dear  young  man,  don't  take  me  so 
seriously  I  "  he  wanted  to  cry  out.  But  it  was  obvious 
that  young  Devitt  was  taking  everything  and  every- 
body, including  himself,  with  abysmal  seriousness. 

"  I  was  not  frightened,"  he  repeated. 

"  And  you  spoke  from  memory  too.  I  never  could 
have  done  that  in  the  world." 

"  Now  you  are  jesting,''  said  T.  Chauncey,  with  a 
solemn  smile.  ^'  That  was  very  wonderful  what  you 
said  at  the  last  —  the  pilot's  words  — "  he  quoted  in 


24  THE  RUDDER 

Ms  deep,  rolling  voice:  "^  Come  icJiat  may,  I  icill 
hold  the  rudder  true! '  That  Avas  wonderful  and 
beautiful." 

^'  I  trust  you  noticed  that  it  was  also  not  original,'^ 
the  author  said.  "  I  thought  it  would  make  a  hit 
with  this  audience,"  he  added,  profanely  and  reck- 
lessly experimenting  according  to  his  habit. 

The  experiment  w^as  not  a  success.  Young  Devitt 
did  indeed  for  one  instant  look  somewhat  puzzled  and 
dubious,  so  that  Cook  had  hopes  of  having  shocked 
him  into  something  like  natural  speech  and  behaviour; 
then  his  face  cleared.  He  eyed  the  author  with  the 
same  uncomfortable  intensity,  and  said  again :  "  You 
are  jesting."  He  paused.  "Are  you  working  now, 
Mr.  Cook?" 

"  I  work  more  or  less  all  the  time,"  said  Cook  pa- 
tiently. 

"All  the  time?  Yes,  I  suppose  you  have  to,  so  as 
to  keep  a  grip  on  your  style.  That's  the  way  all  great 
geniuses  do.  I  always  read  everything  you  write.  I 
think  the  humour  in  your  stories  is  marvellous  — " 

"  Thank  you.  I'm  glad  you  like  them.  Are  your 
father  and  mother  here,  Mr.  Devitt?  I  should  like  to 
meet  them,"  the  author  interposed  hastily.  He  had 
been  aware,  all  the  while,  of  the  father  and  mother 
standing  by  their  chairs,  quite  alone ;  no  one  seemed 
to  know  them;  no  one  had  spoken  to  them  except  a 
professor's  wife  here  and  there;  facts  which  had  no 
effect  on  the  elder  Devitt  in  his  beaming  mood,  but 
Mrs.  Devitt's  air  w^as  both  downcast  and  angTy  — 
angry  to  the  verge  of  tears,  as  Cook  was  sharp  enough 
to  perceive.  To  do  him  justice,  it  was  as  much  a  cer- 
tain humane  sympathy  as  his  curiosity  that  prompted 


THE  RETURX  OF  THE  NATIVE     25 

him.  ''  I'd  like  to  kuow  your  father  and  mother/^ 
he  said,  sincerely. 

The  young  man  glanced  carefully  in  every  direction 
except  the  right  one.  And  now  the  colour  flushed  his 
sallow  face,  he  hesitated,  he  stammered :  "  Ye-yes, 
'  they're  here  —  they  —  they  —  they  don't  care  any- 
*  thing  for  society  —  they  don't  go  into  society  at  all, 
hardly  —  not  at  all  —  I  don't  know  where  they  are 
just  now — "  he  repeated  his  wretched  pretence  of 
gazing  all  around  in  search  of  them.  ^'  I  do  believe 
they've  run  off  somewhere  —  I'll  have  to  hunt  them 
np  —  they  don't  care  for  society  at  all — "  He  was 
natural  enough  now,  alas  I  The  spectacle  of  him 
moved  Cook  with  contempt  and  amusement  and  an 
understanding  pity. 

Luckily  for  all  parties  concerned,  perhaps,  the  epi- 
sode went  no  further,  for  Wilson  interrupted  just  then 
with  another  introduction.  "Ah,  Mr.  Cook?  This 
is  Mr.  Amzi  Loring  —  er,  Tico^  isn't  it?  Mr.  Amzi 
Loring  Tico  —  Second,  you  understand,  Mr.  Cook. 
The  class  poet.''  And  hereupon  Cook  shook  hands 
with  a  huge,  high,  wide  young  bruiser  with  an  under- 
shot jaw  (so  the  author  catalogued  him)  who,  for  his 
part,  gTunted  "  Huh  I  "  scowling  helplessly  at  both  of 
them.     Wilson  escaped  with  a  Puck-like  gi-in. 

"  Pardon  me,  did  you  say  the  class  i^oet?  "  inquired 
Cook. 

Mr.  Amzi  Loring  Two  reiterated  his  first  remark. 
"Huh I''  said  he;  "I'd  look  nice  writing  poetry, 
wouldn't  I?"  He  remained  glowering  down  at  the 
little  man,  clumsy  but  unembarrassed,  profoundly 
bored  and  making  no  slightest  attempt  to  conceal  it. 

"  Well,  this  is  a  child  of  Nature  I "  thought  the  au- 


26  THE  EUDDER 

thor;  and  memory  serving  liim  handily  once  more,  he 
said:     "  Loring?     You  won  in  some  of  the  athletic 
events,  I  think?  " 
"Yeah.'' 

Cook  tried  again.  "  I  met  a  man  once  that  was 
about  your  size,  and  his  business  w^as  selling  chocolate- 
creams  — " 

"  Huh?  "  Amzi  Two  smiled!  "  Chocolate-creams, 
huh?"  His  face  could  not  be  said  to  light  up  —  no 
emotion,  Cook  fancied,  could  make  him  look  other 
than  a  big  brute  —  but  the  gaze  he  bent  on  the  author 
was  at  least  more  attentive.  "  Chocolate-creams !  " 
He  chuckled  raucously. 

"  It  doesn't  seem  a  man's-size  job  any  more  than 
writing  poetry,  hey?  "  Cook  volunteered  further. 

"  No."  After  a  moment's  consideration,  during 
which  he  scanned  the  author's  meagre  proportions 
quite  openly  and  coolly,  he  said :  "  Size  hasn't  got 
anything  to  do  with  it,  of  course.  I  know  that.  But 
I  haven't  got  any  use  for  poetry,  anyhow.  It's  all 
right  for  you,  I  guess." 

"  I  guess  it  is,"  said  Cook  soberly.  "  Or  for  a  man 
like  Devitt  now,  your  valedictorian  — " 

"  Some  noise,  wasn't  he?  "  said  Loring;  and  looking 
down  on  Cook,  to  the  latter's  bottomless  astonishment, 
he  deliberately  drooped  one  eyelid  in  Brobdignagian 
mockery.  Before  the  author  could  recover,  the  young 
fellow  followed  up  this  unexpected  mark  of  confidence 
by  saving  more  confidentially  still :  "  Say,  I  know 
your  niece.  Miss  Maranda." 
"  Indeed? " 

"  Yeah.     I  don't  mean  Fannie  —  I  mean  Nellie,  the 
pretty  one,  you  know.     She's  your  niece,  isn't  she?  " 
"  Yes.     Her  sister  Fannie  is  my  niece,  too." 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE     27 

"Hull?  Ho,  lio  —  she's  jour  niece,  too,  is  she?  — 
Hev?  Ho-lia!  "  Cook  said  to  himself  that  never  did 
a  more  inexpensive  witticism  meet  with  greater  appre- 
ciation! Young  Loring  chuckled  and  chuckled.  He 
looked  at  the  author  with  flattering  friendliness;  he 
became  loquacious,  expansive :  "  That's  what  I  like 
about  Nellie  Maranda.  She  can  say  the  brightest 
things.  She  isn't  anybody's  fool  if  she  is  pretty. 
Most  of  'em  are,  you  know,"  he  said.  ''  I  just  hap- 
pened to  remember  just  now  that  you  were  her  uncle 

—  the  one  that  wrote,  that  is.  I'd  forgotten  all  about 
you,"  he  explained  tactfully.  "  I  live  near  her  —  the 
North  Hill  just  off  of  Adams  Eoad.  That's  my  father 
over  there.     Here,  I'll  get  him.'' 

He  shouldered  off,  leaving  Cook  with  the  thought 
that  here  was  one  boy  who  was  not  ashamed  of  his 
family,  at  any  rate.  The  Devitts,  father,  mother  and 
son,  had  disappeared.  Wilson  rejoined  him,  remark- 
ing blandly :  "  I  sujDpose  you  had  a  sharj)  passage  of 
wits  with  Loring  Two,  Mr.  Cook?" 

"  What  I  want  to  know  is :  how  under  Heaven  did 
that  young  man  ever  get  through  college?  ''Cook  said. 
"  Was  he  too  valuable  in  —  er  —  in  athletic  circles 
to  be  dropped?  Of  course  it's  insulting  to  hint  at 
such  a  thing,  but  in  confidence  now,  was  that  it?  " 

The  other  waved  a  cool  gesture.  "  How  should  I 
know?  Athletic  prestige  is  not  to  be  undervalued  by 
any  college  these  days,  it's  true.  Is  he  bringing  his 
father?  By  the  way,  the  father,  Amzi  One,  is  a  prom- 
inent citizen.  I  should  have  thought  vou  would  re- 
member  him.     He's  the  Loring  they  call  the  Ice-King 

—  now  don't  you  remember?  " 

"  The  Ice-King?  "  echoed  Cook  hazily.  And  then 
he  found  himself  being  presented  not  to  a  Santa-Claus- 


28  THE  KUDDER 

looking  individual  wreathed  in  white  cotton-batting^ 
and  diamond-dust  as  the  title  suggested,  but  to  a  pros- 
perous, middle-aged  gentleman  suitably  clad,  who 
shook  his  hand  cordially,  calling  him  Mr.  Brooks,  and 
observed  that  it  was  very  hot,  but  only  what  was  to 
be  expected  at  this  season  of  the  year. 

^'  You  haven't  got  any  kick  coming  because  it's  hot,'' 
said  young  Amzi,  and  winked  at  Cook  again.  "  Dad 
can't  ever  get  his  mind  off  of  business."  He  quoted 
the  refrain  of  a  ditty  popular  at  that  date,  '' '  Hoiv 
would  you  like  to  be  the  ice-man?  /  don't  know! ' '' 
And  at  this  rich  piece  of  humour,  he  laughed  and  the 
elder  man  laughed  so  uproariously  that  people  stand- 
ing near  jumped  and  stared  at  them.  Cook  laughed 
with  even  keener  enjoyment  than  the  others,  though 
(it  is  possible)  not  entirely  for  the  same  reason.  He 
was  often  accused  of  "  lifting  "  his  characters  bodily 
from  life,  and  as  often  solemnly  denied  it.  "  No  profit 
in  it,"  he  would  aver;  "  truth  is  so  much  stranger  than 
fiction  that  you  can't  make  it  plausible."  And  it  is  a 
fact  that  for  that  or  other  reasons,  no  one  at  all  re- 
sembling the  two  Lorings  ever  appeared  in  any  of  his 
novels,  not  even  in  that  famous  chapter  of  Julia 
Deribifs  Career,  although  you  might  have  supposed 
they  w^ould  offer  ideal  "  material." 


CHAPTER  II 

MR.  COOK  returned  on  the  "  Intenirban  "  as 
democratically  as  he  had  come,  and  un- 
recognised amongst  the  crowd,  notwith- 
standing the  conspicuous  role  he  had  played  in  the 
afternoon's  j)roceedings.  He  was  not  the  man  to  be 
cast  down  by  this  neglect,  however  —  quite  the  con- 
trary; the  lack  of  personal  distinction  he  sincerely 
considered  one  of  his  best  assets,  it  was  of  so  much  use 
in  '^  making  the  other  fellow  talk."  The  little  author 
looked  so  safe,  hainnless,  ordinary  — "  And  in  fact  I 
am  perfectly  safe,  harmless  and  ordinary,"  he  would 
have  said  with  his  dry  smile.  On  this  occasion  he  fell 
in  with  a  couple  of  nice  lads,  friends  going  through 
college  together ;  they  would  graduate  next  year,  they 
told  him,  and  were  led  to  chatter  eagerly  and  frankly 
about  their  plans  which  involved  Xew  Mexico,  South 
Africa,  the  Klondike,  thev  were  not  vet  certain  which. 
One  of  them  meant  to  be  a  mining  engineer,  and  the 
other  was  taking  some  sort  of  electrical  construction 
course  in  "  Tech,"  he  said,  adding :  "  You  see  Bill 
and  I  are  expecting  to  kind  of  do  team-work."  And 
he  nodded  brightly  at  Cook,  confidently  supposing 
himself  understood.  Neither  of  them  knew  Mr.  Amzi 
Loring  or  T.  Chauncey  Devitt,  to  Cook's  disappoint- 
ment; he  had  hoped  to  discover  some  new  point  of 
view  of  those  two  celebrities.  But  in  any  case  these 
boys  allowed  themselves  no  personal  opinions;  they 
looked  upon  everybody  and  everything  connected  with 

29 


30  THE  RUDDER 

their  college  with  the  same  loyal  and  unreserved  en- 
thusiasm. 

They  reached  the  city  at  last,  in  a  hot,  sticky  dusk. 
Cook  worked  his  way  out  of  his  earful  of  people 
briskly  enough,  but  he  paused  on  the  curb,  hesitating. 
The  very  air  felt  tired ;  newsboys  w^ere  squawking  the 
^  baseball  extras ;  the  evening  crowds  were  just  start- 
ing homeward,  every  car  grinding  by  fringed  with 
men.  One  w^ould  not  have  thought  the  street-corner 
a  pleasant  place  to  linger;  the  North  Hill,  with  its 
comparative  coolness  and  quiet  would  seem  to  the 
casual  judgment  much  more  attractive;  yet,  for  some 
reason  Mr.  Cook  appeared  to  be  in  no  hurry  to  gain 
that  haven.  In  point  of  fact,  he  was  thinking  in  a 
gross,  unsesthetic  fashion  which  would  have  shocked 
admirers  of  his  genius,  why  not  dine  down-town? 
Why  not  get  a  room  down-town,  for  that  matter? 
Must  he  stay  out  at  the  house?  Couldn't  this  thing 
Ibe  compromised  somehow  with  a  visit  —  a  nice  visit 
of  a  couple  of  hours,  say  —  a  nice,  agreeable  talk  — 
wouldn't  that  do?  He  w^as  afraid  it  wouldn't  do. 
He  didn't  want  to  hurt  any  one's  feelings  —  might  as 
well  go  through  Avith  it  —  might  as  well  get  it  done 
and  over  with,  as  long  as  he  was  here  —  and  at  this 
stage  he  was  interrupted  by  a  large  presence  at  his 
elbow,  familiarly  accosting  him. 

"Hello!''  it  said;  "here  you  are!  Say,  w^here'd 
you  go  to?  I  lost  you  in  the  shuffle  up  there  right 
at  the  end  when  everybody  was  good-bye-ing.  We 
wanted  to  bring  you  along  with  our  crowd.  We  had 
a  special.  Take  you  out  to  the  Hill  now,  if  you  like, 
in  the  machine.  Take  both  of  you.  Your  niece  is 
here." 

It  was  Amzi  Two  again,  six  feet  of  him,  grinning 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  31 

with  bis  imdersliot  jaw,  like  an  amiable  —  a  tempor- 
arily amiable  —  bulldog,  bewilderingly  friendly,  and 
so  big  that  Cook's  mind  for  the  moment  could  take  in 
nothino-  but  this  bigness.  "  I  don't  see  how  I  ever 
missed  you  I  "  he  involuntarily  ejaculated. 

"■  I  told  you.  We  had  one  of  their  special  cars  — 
you  can  charter  'em  from  the  Traction  Company.  We  ^ 
were  right  behind  you  all  the  way.  There  she  is/' 
said  the  other,  nodding  towards  a  resplendent  convey- 
ance, all  maroon  paint,  polished  nickel  rods,  plate- 
glass  windows  and  wicker  chairs  of  which,  sure 
enough,  Cook  remembered  to  have  caught  glimpses 
trundling  in  the  rear  on  the  way  down.  Indeed,  it 
had  been  not  only  striking  to  the  eye,  but  vociferously 
so  to  the  ear  also,  what  with  tin  horns,  megaphones, 
the  college  yell,  and  so  on.  It  stood  empty  now,  the 
motorman  lounging  over  his  helm.  Cook  stared,  not 
quite  understanding. 

"  Thank  you  very  much  for  thinking  about  me,"  he 
said  precisely.  ''The  house  isn't  on  the  car-line, 
though,  so  I  can't  accept  — " 

''Wake  up!''  said  Amzi  Two  in  rough  and  impa- 
tient jocularity.  "  I  don't  want  to  take  you  in  that. 
Our  machine's  here.  I  told  you  that  before.  The 
shuff's  got  it  across  the  street  in  front  of  the  drug- 
store—  see  it?  The  big  red  one  — the  Packard. 
There's  Dad  talking  to  Miss  Maranda.  She's  waving 
to  you  now.     Come  on  I  " 

He  seized  the  author's  valise  in  one  muscular  grasp, 
the  author's  elbow  in  the  other,  and  had  them  both 
well  under  way  before  the  last  words  were  out  of 
his  mouth.  Cook  submitted.  The  only  thing,  he 
thought,  that  could  be  more  ridiculous  than  a  little 
man  being  carted  across  the  street  by  a  big  man,  was 


32  THE  EUDDEE 

the  same  little  man  getting  into  a  bad  temper  about 
it.  And  this  young  lout  meant  well,  no  question  of 
that,  though  what  it  was  in  himself  that  had  found 
such  marked  favour  with  Amzi  Two  w^as  a  matter  of 
mystery  to  Cook.  He  acquitted  both  Lorings  of  the 
sort  of  snobbery  that  delights  in  exhibiting  an  in- 
timacy with  people  of  his  profession;  that  would  be 
more  in  T.  Chauncey's  line,  the  author  said  to  himself 
shrewdly.  But  these  two  men —  !  It  was  hard  to 
believe  that  either  father  or  son  had  ever  read  any- 
thing but  the  daily  paper  in  his  life ;  poems  or  pumps, 
stories  or  shoe-polish,  it  was  all  one  to  them  how  their 
new  friend  made  a  living.  "  They  love  me  for  my- 
self alone ! ''  Cook  decided  with  inward  laughter. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  street  there  stood  the  great, 
flaring  automobile  which  the  "  shuff  "  was  just  now 
engaged  in  cranking;  the  "  shuff  was  another  stal- 
wart individual  with  a  uniform  of  imposing  smart- 
ness. Everything  about  the  Lorings  was  large  and 
opulent;  their  single  group  overshadowed  all  else  in 
sight,  the  drugstore,  the  crowd,  the  incessant  news- 
boys, the  dray  laden  with  barrels  on  one  hand,  the 
humble  livery-stable  coupe  on  the  other.  Loring 
senior  in  his  natty  light  waistcoat  was  chatting  with 
a  tall  young  lady  in  a  white  dress  and  hat,  who,  in 
her  different  way,  was  not  the  least  distinguished  fig- 
ure of  the  whole  distinguished  scene.  Cook  realised 
it  with  a  fresh  surprise,  as  if  the  delicately  high-col- 
oured brunette  face  she  turned  towards  him  had  been 
that  of  some  stranger  instead  of  his  own  near  kins- 
woman. ^'  I  forget  in  between  times  how  pretty  Nel- 
lie is,''  he  was  thinking  as  he  greeted  her.  "  Well, 
Nellie!'' 

She  came  up  and  put  her  hand  in  his  with  a  very 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  33 

simple,  correct  air  of  enthusiasm  and  affection  min- 
gled in  careful  proportions,  not  too  much  of  either, 
the  place  being  too  public  for  that.  There  was  noth- 
ing pleasingly  girlish  about  it,  but  in  fact,  Miss  Mar- 
anda  must  have  been  about  twenty-five  years  old,  and 
gave  an  instant  impression  of  social  experience  and 
thoroughly  reliable  manners.  ^'  Well,  Uncle  I  Are 
yoa  nearly  worn  out?  "  she  said  in  smiling  sympathy; 
and  included  the  others  with  :  "  He's  been  away  from 
here  so  long  he  can't  be  hardened  to  the  sight  of  the 
thermometer  in  the  nineties  any  more." 

Loring  One  took  the  elderly  man's  privilege  of  star- 
ing at  her  with  open  admiration;  Loring  Two  red- 
dened under  her  casual  eyes  like  any  schoolboy.  He 
looked  as  if  he  must  be  red  to  his  very  heels  —  no 
slight  distance !  Whatever  this  would  indicate  it  was 
not  embarrassment  as  might  have  been  supposed,  for 
he  spoke  directly  with  authoritative  ease. 

"  It'll  be  cool  riding.  There's  always  a  breeze. 
Here,  put  this  in,  Garry,"  he  brusquely  commanded 
the  chauffeur,  passing  him  Cook's  bag.  And,  over- 
looking her  quick  gesture  of  protest,  he  went  on  to 
Miss  Maranda  in  a  tone  scarcely  less  brusque :  "  Get 
in  front.     You  get  in  front,  and  I'll  drive." 

"  Why,  that's  so  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Loring,  but 
I  — "     "^ 

"  Hold  up,  son !  "  interposed  the  older  man.  "  The 
young  lady  was  just  explaining  to  me  — " 

"  We  can't,  you  know,  Mr.  Loring  —  I'm  so  sorry  I 
You  see  I  came  doT\Ti  to  meet  Mr.  Cook  — " 

"  I  wouldn't  have  had  you  do  it  in  this  prostrating 
heat,  Eleanor,"  began  this  last;  "if  Mr.  Loring 
w^ants  — " 

Young  Amzi's  heavy  voice  cut  all  the  civilities  short. 


34  THE  KUDDER 

As  an  exhibition  of  force  and  directness  it  suggested 
his  performances  at  putting  the  shot.  "What's  the 
matter?  Why  can't  you?  "  he  bluntly  demanded  of 
the  girl. 

"  Because  I've  a  ^  hack  '  here  already,"  said  Nellie, 
laying  a  humorous  stress  on  the  word ;  and  she  waved 
her  hand,  grimacing  piquantly,  towards  the  coupe,  the 
driver  of  which,  taking  the  gesture  for  a  signal, 
clucked  to  his  horse  and  moved  up  along  the  curb. 
"  Here  he  comes  now.  It's  for  you,  Uncle  Marshall. 
Mrs.  Maranda  ordered  it  for  you." 

"Mrs.  Maranda?  For  me!'^  repeated  Cook;  and 
now  it  was  his  turn  to  change  colour,  inexplicably ;  the 
flush  crept  slowly  up  over  his  thin  hatchet-face. 
"  Mrs.  Maranda  sent  it  for  me?  " 

"  She  would  do  it,  you  know,"  said  his  niece  de- 
fensively as  their  eyes  met. 

There  was  an  infinitesimal  pause  —  infinitesimal, 
yet  somehow  long  enough  to  be  marked,  uncomfort- 
able. Cook  spoke  hurriedly  in  an  ineffectual  attempt 
to  cover  it  up.  "  That  was  very  nice  of  —  of  your 
mother,"  he  said,  fumbling  the  last  word  a  little,  per- 
haps annoyed  at  his  inability  to  conceal  annoyance. 
In  a  second  he  had  recovered,  however,  and  added 
smoothly  enough :  "  You  see  how  it  is,  Mr.  Loring. 
I'm  overwhelmed  with  hospitalities  which  I'm  afraid 
I  don't  at  all  deserve!  If  one  could  only  do  two 
things  at  once — " 

Young  Loring  came  down  again  like  a  well-aimed 
bludgeon.  "  Bosh !  "  he  ejaculated  freely.  "  Send 
the  rig  back  to  the  stable,  and  you  come  along  with  us. 
Horses  are  so  dead  slow,  it  makes  me  tired  to  look  at 


'em." 


Cook,  now  quite  master  of  himself,  adjusted  his 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE     35 

features  to  an  expression  of  polite  helplessness.  "  If 
one  could  only  be  in  two  places  at  once  — "  he  mur- 
mured. 

"  Guess  you'll  have  to  give  up,  son,"  said  the  Ice- 
King,  good-humouredly.  But  the  younger  man 
seemed  himself  to  have  already  come  to  that  decision. 
He  uttered  a  single  brief  comment :  '^  Huh  I ''  and 
hustled  them  over  to  Mrs.  Maranda's  ''  hack  "'  with  the 
not-too-gentle  promptness  and  vigour  apparent  in 
most  of  his  actions  so  far.  He  shoved  them  both  in, 
slammed  the  door,  said  to  Xellie :  "  I'll  'phone  you 
this  evening,  if  I  don't  come  over,"  said  to  the  driver, 
"  's  all  right,  George  I  "  and  was  back  climbing  into  his 
own  vehicle,  all  in  one  breath  I  Garry  manipulated 
the  wheel;  the  automobile  moved  off  majestic  as  a 
freight-locomotive  and  not  far  from  the  same  size. 
The  last  Cook  and  the  girl  saw  of  them,  Loring  the  son 
was  lighting  a  long,  large,  dark  cigar  in  the  shelter  of 
his  father's  hat,  which  the  latter  gentleman  obligingly 
held  for  that  purpose;  they  vanished  around  the  cor- 
ner with  an  aroma  of  gasoline  streaming  like  a  pen- 
nant in  their  rear.  The  hack,  following  at  its  sober 
pace,  lost  sight  of  them  almost  at  once. 

"  Tremendously  energetic  young  man  I  "  said  Cook, 
with  a  half  laugh.  "  In  fact,  I  should  say  he  was  all 
energv  and  not  much  else  I  Who  are  thev,  Xellie? 
Somebody  new?  Since  the  last  time  I  was  here,  I 
mean." 

"  Whv,  no  —  not  exactlv.  Thev've  alwavs  lived 
here.  Mr.  Loring's  father  —  the  old  Mr.  Loring  —  is 
the  one  thev  call  the  Ice-Kins:.  I  think  thev  used  to 
live  somewhere  down  town.  But  now  they've  bought 
that  great,  big  place  of  the  Hendersons  —  you  remem- 
ber where  the  Hendersons  lived  — ?  '' 


36  THE  EUDDER 

The  author  nodded.  ''  Any  Mrs.  Loring?  "  he  in- 
quired. 

"  No.  The  two  men  live  there  by  themselves  —  a 
whole  tribe  of  servants,  of  course.  They've  done  a 
great  deal  to  the  place.     It's  quite  gorgeous  now.'' 

Cook  gave  an  amused  exclamation.  "  Gorgeous  in 
whose  taste?  Did  Amzi  senior  or  junior  direct  the 
alterations?  " 

"  Neither  one  of  them,"  said  the  girl,  laughing  too, 
though  constrainedly.  "  They  knew  better  than  to 
try,  and  got  architects  and  decorators.  They're  not 
such  Philistines  as  you  think,  Uncle  Marshall,"  she 
added,  with  a  certain  warmth. 

"  I  don't  mind  Philistines,"  said  Cook  with  another 
laugh,  protesting  indirectly  against  her  indirect  ac- 
cusation. For  the  next  moment  he  was  bending  all 
his  energies  to  lighting  a  cigarette  —  he  never  smoked 
cigars ;  they  made  him  sick  —  and  spoke  brokenly,  be- 
tween inhalations.  "  I  don't  ask  your  leave,  Nellie  — 
you  smoke  them  yourself  —  so  it  can't  offend  you  — " 
He  had  it  going,  threw  away  the  match,  and  blew  out 
a  mouthful  of  smoke,  through  which  he  said  casually : 
"  How  long  have  you  knowm  the  Lorings  yourself? 
The  young  one  seemed  to  consider  himself  quite  inti- 
mate." 

'^  Oh,  a  year  or  so  —  I  don't  remember  where  I  met 
him  first  —  playing  tennis,  I  believe  it  was.  He 
played  in  the  tournament  last  summer.  He  knows 
all  the  men  and  girls  in  the  club,  of  course,"  Nellie 
said  carelessly,  and  therewith  abandoned  young  Lor- 
ing. "  Now  tell  me  about  yourself.  Uncle  Marsh. 
Oh,  I'm  not  going  to  ask  you  any  of  those  questions 
you  hate  so,"  she  interrupted  herself  quickly,  reading 
his  face.     "  I  mean  what  kind  of  a  day  did  you  have? 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  37 

Was  it  interesting  at  tlie  Commencement?     Or  just 
?>o/e-ious?  " 

'^  Wlij,  everything's  always  interesting,  more  or 
less,  you  know,"  the  novelist  declared.  "  Nobody  ever 
needs  to  be  bored,  I  think.''  He  gave  her  some  ac- 
count of  the  day's  doings,  to  which  Nellie  showed  her- 
self a  bright  and  accommodating  listener. 

"  '  T.  Chauncey  I '  "  she  repeated  at  one  point,  with 
incredulous  relish.  "  Oh,  come  now.  Uncle  Marsh, 
you  made  that  up!     That's  too  good  to  be  true  I  " 

"  Not  1 1     That's  just  it!     I  couldn't  have  made  up 
anything  half  so  good.     T.  Chauncey  was  his  name." 
"Did  he  live  up  to  it?" 

"  Capitally  —  as  far  as  stage  presence  goes,  that  is," 
said  Cook,  recalling  his  first  impression  of  the  young 
man ;  ''^he  looked  like  Lord  Byron !  " 

"And  talked  like  John  Smith,  I  suppose?  " 
"Exactly.  However,  there  must  be  something  in 
him.  People  sometimes  seem  to  feel  some  queer  kind 
of  handicap,  talking  to  me  —  they're  a  little  affected 
—  seem  to  have  it  too  much  on  their  minds  that  I'm 
Mittery.'  I  fancied  that  was  what  was  the  matter 
with  him,  though  he  had  a  great  air  of  self-possession." 
Cook  paused,  frowning  meditatively.  "  T.  Chauncey 
was  not  without  personal  force  —  magnetism,  if  you 
choose.  You  felt  it  even  when  he  was  reciting  his 
banalities.  There  must  be  something  in  him,"  said 
the  author  again  with  conviction.  He  went  on  with 
his  tale,  ending  with :  "  The  w^hole  thing  was 
interesting.  I  don't  quite  know  what  to  make  of 
him." 

"  Well,  7  do  I  I  think  he  was  disgusting  to  feel  that 
way  about  his  old  father  and  mother  that  had  done 
everything  in  the  world  for  him !  "  said  Nellie.     Her 


38  THE  RUDDER 

dark  face  flashed.  '^  Disgusting  I ''  she  ejaculated 
again  with  generous  vehemence.  Cook,  observing  her, 
said  to  himself  that  it  was  as  if  she  had  forgotten  her 
conventional  creed,  dropped  for  one  second  her  in- 
visible shield  of  manners,  and  stood  forth  the  real 
woman,  spirited  and  impulsive.  She  herself  must 
have  been  aware  of  it,  for  meeting  his  scrutiny,  she 
coloured  and  laughed  and  bit  her  lip.  "  Not  that  I 
need  to  excite  myself  over  it ! ''  she  said  lightly. 
''  He's  not  the  only  person  in  the  world  that's  ashamed 
of  his  relatives,  I  daresay.'' 

*^  One  in  every  family,"  said  Cook,  shrugging. 
"And  the  truth  is,  every  family  has  some  members 
it's  ashamed  of.  I  myself  —  I've  had  to  walk  down 
street  with  sundry  gentlemen  and  ladies  that  I'd  have 
given  a  good  deal  not  to  be  seen  with !  " 

"Meaning  mef ''  said  Nellie,  sparkling.  She  gave 
his  arm  a  little  shake,  affectionate  and  teasing.  It 
Avas  another  of  her  unruly  impulses,  as  Cook  saw  with 
the  thought  that  w^hether  they  were  of  any  significance 
or  not,  they  had  a  certain  heady  charm,  and  became 
her  well.  He  cocked  his  head  to  one  side,  and  e^^ed 
her  all  over  in  exaggeratedly  critical  appraisal. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know !  "  he  drawled  loftily ;  they  both 
laughed. 

"  You  and  I  always  do  get  along,  don't  we,  Uncle 
Marsh?  "  said  the  girl.  Even  with  the  words  her  face 
that  had  been  so  gay  suddenly  clouded.  Perhaps 
Cook's  own  expression  changed.  They  fell  silent. 
The  carriage  laboriously  climbed  the  hill,  and  turned 
into  Paradise  Park.  It  was  skirting  the  reservoir  be- 
fore either  of  them  spoke  again. 

"  I  should  have  asked  before  this  —  er  —  how  is 
Mrs.  Maranda?  "  Cook  said  at  last,  almost  with  for- 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE     39 

mality.     "  I  took  it  tliat  she  was  well  —  that  is,  as 
well  as  usual  —  or  I  should  have  heard." 

Nellie  answered  with  equal  stiffness;  they  might 
have  been  two  distant  acquaintances  exchanging  per- 
functory civilities  about  another  distant  acquaint- 
ance. "  Thank  you,  Uncle  Marshall,  she  is  about  the 
same.  Of  course  she  doesn't  get  out  at  all  —  she  can't 
go  anywhere,  but  otherwise  she  seems  to  be  as  strong 
as  anybody.     The  doctor  says  she  is." 

"Well  —  er  —  is  there  much  nursing?" 

"  No,"  said  Nellie,  looking  straight  ahead ;  "  she  is 
not  really  sick,  you  know.  She  never  has  any  pain. 
If  one  may  judge  by  eating  and  sleeping,  she  is  per- 
fectly well.  Of  course  she  has  to  have  some  atten- 
tion." She  paused.  "  Fannie  does  almost  everything 
for  her." 

Cook  made  a  movement.-  "  That  is  not  at  all  neces- 
sary," he  said  in  a  chilly  voice;  "I  have  repeatedly 
told  Fannie,  and  told  Mrs.  Maranda  that  that  wasn't 
necessary.  It  ought  to  be  perfectly  possible  to  get 
some  person  —  a  maid  or  somebody  — " 

"  Mrs.  Maranda  says  that  another  servant  would 
upset  the  house  too  much,  and  she  doesn't  want  to  put 
us  to  so  much  inconvenience,"  said  Nellie  imperson- 
ally, as  if  she  were  repeating  a  lesson.  "  She  says 
that  she  feels  just  as  if  we  w^ere  her  own  children,  and 
she  knows  we  feel  the  same  towards  her  as  we  would 
towards  our  own  mother;  she  knows  that  we  love  to 
take  care  of  her.  Besides,  she  savs  that  we  all  know 
it's  our  duty  not  to  lay  the  expense  of  another  maid 
on  you,  and  we  can't  think  of  accepting  it  from  you  — 
I  beg  your  pardon.  Uncle  Marshall?  You  said — ?" 
"  Nothing  —  nothing,"  said  the  other  hastily.  Nel- 
lie resumed  in  the  same  resolutelv  colourless  fashion. 


40  THE  RUDDER 

"  She  says  that  she  would  gladly  give  us  more  to- 
wards the  expenses  of  the  house  —  she  would  gladly 
pay  more  than  her  share  (she  says)  but  she  has  all  she 
can  do  now  —  she  has  so  many  people  to  take  care  of 
—  people  who  are  really  needier  than  Fannie  and  my- 
self, and  have  more  claim  on  her  — " 

"  Homer  and  his  family,  of  course  —  I  understand, 
Nellie,  never  mind  the  rest/'  Cook  interrupted  with 
some  effort.  The  little  man's  face  was  the  hue  of  an- 
tique mahogany,  he  lit  another  cigarette  with  a  hand 
that  shook.  His  niece  gave  him  a  side-glance,  and 
appeared  momentarily  to  be  on  the  brink  of  some  out- 
burst similar  to  her  other  outbursts.  She  held  it  back, 
speaking  from  a  quick  second  thought. 

"  Fannie  wants  it  too.  Uncle  Marshall.  I  mean  she 
wants  things  just  as  they  are.     She  tcants  to  — " 

^^  Undoubtedly.  I  quite  understand,"  said  Cook. 
Something  trenchant  in  his  utterance,  mild  and  gov- 
erned as  it  was,  ended  the  discussion.  Nellie,  indeed, 
shrank  a  little.  She  was  afraid  of  him  at  times  — 
not  so  much  of  what  he  might  say  to  her,  as  of  what  he 
might  think  of  her.  The  girl  could  conceive  no 
greater  humiliation  than  for  Uncle  Marshall  to  find 
iier  dull.  Presently,  with  conscious  determination, 
they  recommenced  their  first  slight  chatter,  gos- 
sip, news,  stories,  and  by  degrees  the  odd  tension  re- 
laxed. 

The  Maranda  house  was  on  Church  Lane,  in  a  neigh- 
bourhood established  as  ^'  nice  "  about  the  year  1885, 
but  now  beginning  to  suffer  an  invasion  of  utilitarian- 
ism. Many  of  the  old  places  had  been  turned  into 
boarding-houses,  many  others  into  duplex  flats;  and 
at  the  entrance  of  the  street,  an  ungainly  apartment 
building,  tiers  on  tiers  of  porches,  windows  aligned 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NxVTIVE  41 

like  the  cells  for  mail  in  a  postofQce,  occupied  the  site 
of  the  old  Gilmore  homestead,  as  Cook  recollected. 

^^  The  IIiiii  is  at  the  gate!''  he  said,  surveying  it. 
"  Our  social  doom  is  sealed !  Nobody  lives  cheek  by 
jowl  with  that  —  nobody !  " 

"  If  people  know  who  you  are^  it  doesn't  make  any 
difference,''  said  Nellie,  rather  literally  and  simply. 

They  came  to  a  good-sized  house  of  indeterminate 
style,  with  a  round  bay  on  one  corner,  a  rainbow- 
coloured  window  of  "  art-glass "  evidently  lighting 
the  staircase-landing,  a  front  porch  adorned  with  in- 
tricately sculptured  wooden  railings,  minarets  and 
finials,  and  within  the  shelter  of  this  last,  as  could  be 
seen  from  the  street,  an  invalid's  wheel-chair  with 
cushions  from  which  somebody  first  waved  a  greeting 
to  them,  and  then,  starting  up,  called  out  excitedly. 
Some  one  else  came  running  from  the  interior.  Cook 
sent  vague  smiling  politenesses  in  that  general  direc- 
tion, somewhat  hampered  by  the  movements  of  getting 
out  of  the  carriage,  giving  a  hand  to  Nellie,  taking  off 
his  hat  and  feeling  in  his  pocket,  all  at  very  nearly  the 
same  instant.  There  was  another  high-pitched  volley 
from  the  porch;  Nellie  began  some  confused  speech 
and  abruptly  broke  off ;  the  author  looked  about,  won- 
dering if  he  had  forgotten  anything. 

"  Mis'  M'randa,  she's  a-hollerin'  to  you,  boss,"  the 
coloured  driver  notified  him  quite  superfluously,  as  he 
took  Cook's  tip.  "Tears  lak  she's  tellin'  you  sum- 
pin'.  Is  you  got  yo'  grip?  Yessuh,  thanky,  suh!" 
He  turned  about  and  drove  away  just  as  Fannie  Mar- 
anda,  out  of  breath,  reached  them. 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Marshall,  so  glad  to  see  you  I ''  she  said 
cordially,  taking  both  his  hands,  but  with  her  eyes  ad- 
dressinof   Nellie.     "  Hasn't   it   been   dreadfully    hot, 


42  THE  EUDDER 

thougli?  Did  you  liave  a  nice  trip?  You  must  be  all 
tired  out  —  only  you're  always  so  neat  —  you  don't 
look  as  if  anything  could  upset  you — "  Here  she 
abandoned  him,  with  an  equally  nervous  and  dis- 
jointed apology^  "  Just  a  minute,  Uncle  Marshall  — 
I  heg  your  pardon  —  Oh,  the  man's  gone!  Mercy, 
Nellie,  did  you — ?"  She  half  lowered  her  voice. 
^'  You  know  she  didn't  want  Uncle  Marsh  to  — " 

"  I  didn't  have  a  chance,''  said  Nellie,  shortly. 
"  Never  mind,  Fannie !  " 

"She  won't  like  it  —  she  wanted  imrticidarly  — 
you  know — "  the  other  girl  whispered,  with  an 
alarmed  look. 

"  I  couldn't  help  it.  I  didn't  try  anyhow !  "  said 
Nellie,  fiercely  conclusive.  "  Do  stop !  '^  All  at  once 
her  temper  flared,  and  was  smothered  again,  as  she 
glanced  at  her  uncle. 

"  What's  up?  "  the  latter  inquired.  In  a  second  he 
realised  that  whatever  was  "  up,"  it  was  something 
hideously  awkward,  requiring  to  be  met  with  an  ap- 
pearance of  unconsciousness;  there  was  a  heart-sink- 
ing familiarity  in  the  scene.  "  Same  old  thing!  "  he 
thought  while  he  braced  himself  to  say  gaily :  "  Some 
tragedy  about  the  steak  for  dinner?  Never  mind  it, 
Fannie !     Nell's  right  —  never  mind !  " 

Nellie  murmured  feverishly  something  about  it's 
being  just  nonsense  —  a  —  a  surprise  —  they  had  in- 
tended to  surprise  him.  Yes,  that  was  it  I  They  had 
meant  to  give  him  a  surprise  —  !  She  burst  into  a 
kind  of  savage  giggle,  and  started  quickly  towards  the 
house  where  all  this  while  the  other  lady  was  standing 
at  the  head  of  the  porch  steps,  talking  or  rather  ex- 
claiming in  a  shrilly  sweet  insistent  voice.  Fannie 
did  not  laugh;  she  stood  still,  troubled,  out  of  coun- 


THE  EETUKN  OF  THE  NATIVE  43 

tenance,  not  even  able  to  feign  laughter.  Fannie  was 
a  large,  serious-faced,  blonde  girl  with  beautiful  and 
very  near-sighted  blue  eves ;  she  looked  thirty,  and  was 
in  reality  three  years  younger  than  her  sister. 
Neither  one  of  them  would  have  been  guessed,  off- 
hand, and  seen  apart  from  him,  to  be  any  kin  of 
Cook's ;  yet  —  for  a  curious  fact  —  between  the  small, 
sallow,  dark,  homely  man  and  Nellie  Maranda  who 
was  considered  a  strikingly  pretty  woman,  there  did 
exist  a  resemblance  too  fleeting  and  elusive  to  be  de- 
fined which  sometimes  caused  people  to  declare  that 
they  might  be  known  for  uncle  and  niece  anywhere. 

"  You're  looking  well,  Fannie,"  the  author  now  said. 
"  Here  I  What  are  you  trying  to  do?  "  he  ejaculated 
precii^itately,  as  she  motioned  to  take  up  his  luggage. 
Cook  snatched  it  from  her,  horrified.  ^^  Good  gTa- 
cious,  do  you  think  I'm  going  to  let  you  carry  my 
things?'' 

"  Oh,  but  I  like  to.  Uncle  Marshall !  Please  let 
me !  ' 

"  Not  this  time ! '' 

She  walked  by  his  side,  touching  his  sleeve  with  the 
tips  of  her  fingers  in  a  quaintly  diffident  caress.  "  It's 
so  nice  to  have  you  here  again.  Uncle  Marshall." 

"  Same  to  you,  and  many  of  'em,  Fan !  "  said  Cook, 
elaborately  jocose  —  and  also  thoroughly  sincere. 
Blood  is  thicker  than  water!  He  was  thinking  that 
after  all  it  was  good  to  get  back  home,  and  see  the 
girls,  and  the  hot,  dirty,  friendly  old  town,  and  the 
people  whom  he  had  known,  amongst  whom  he  had 
lived.  What  had  possessed  him  a  while  ago  to  dream 
of  evading  all  this  —  of  escaping  with  an  ordinary 
call—? 

'^  Fannie! ''  cried  the  voice  on  the  porch,  anxiously, 


44  THE  RUDDER 

'^  why  don't  you  take  those  things  for  your  uncle? 
You  know  he's  not  strong!  He'll  be  exhausted! 
Marshall,  do  put  that  down  and  let  her  carry  it.  I 
wash  /  could  help  —  you  know  I  would  in  a  minute  if 
I  could — "  And  Cook  having  by  this  time  reached 
her,  his  sister-in-law,  or  perhaps  it  would  be  more  ac- 
curate to  say  his  brother-in-law's  widow,  came  and 
welcomed  him  with  almost  hysterical  warmth. 

'^  Marshall  dear,  we  are  so  glad  to  have  you  here. 
You  know  we're  simply  bursting  with  iDride  about  you 

—  you  know  that,  don't  you?  At  least  you'll  believe 
it  when  I  tell  you  so,  for  I  never  say  anything  I  don't 
mean,  you  know  that!  You're  late  —  I  do  hope  din- 
ner isn't  spoiled  —  you  haven't  got  time  to  take  a  bath 

—  isn't  it  a  pity  ?  —  I  know  you  want  one,  but  dinner 
can't  wait  any  longer.  You  can  just  sit  down  the  way 
you  are  —  w^e  don't  care  if  you  are  all  over  dust  and 
dirt,  do  we,  girls?  It  does  make  you  look  funny, 
though!  Do  look,  Nellie,  it's  so  absurd  to  see  your 
Uncle  Marshall,  of  all  men  in  the  world,  with  a  dirty 
neck  and  ears  like  a  little  boy !  " 

"  Juliet,  you're  just  the  same  as  ever  —  full  of  fun 
in  spite  of  your  health.  Such  a  sense  of  humour !  " 
said  Cook  with  a  heartiness  that  might  have  aroused 
some  suspicion  in  any  one  who  knew  him  w^ell.  Nel- 
lie, in  fact,  did  give  him  a  sharp  glance;  and  some- 
thing must  have  occurred  at  the  moment  to  put  her 
into  a  good  temper,  for  she  began  to  laugh.  Cook 
went  on  smoothly :  "  May  I  wash  my  hands,  though? 
There's  time  for  that?  Is  it  my  same  old  room? 
Fine !  All  right,  Fannie,  I  know  the  way  —  I  ought 
to!" 

He  went  up  into  the  pretty,  feminine  place.  There 
were  frilled  pillows,  frilled  white  curtains,  a  toilet- 


THE  KETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  45 

table  decked  with  frills,  a  bunch  of  pink  sweet-peas  in 
a  dove-coloiired  vase,  copies  of  all  his  novels  in  em- 
broidered linen  slip-covers,  spread  out  upon  a  pale 
blue  blotter  with  silver  corner  pieces  on  the  white 
enamelled  table  bv  the  window.  The  author  looked 
around  with  a  shame-faced  gi'in.  "  It's  pathetic  I ''  he 
reprimanded  himself.  He  sat  down  gingerly  in  one  of 
the  slim  white  chairs.  Through  the  open  window 
there  came  a  scent  of  honeysuckle  and  the  sound 
of  the  ladies'  voices  on  the  porch  below.  Mrs. 
Maranda's,  pleasantly  incisive,  reached  him  dis- 
tinctly. 

"  Didn't  you  give  the  man  —  the  driver  —  didn't 
you  give  him  that  twenty-five  cents,  Xellie?  What! 
Why,  Xellie,  I  told  you  positiveli/  to  be  sure  to  tip  him 
yourself!  It's  horrid  and  inhospitable  to  let  your 
uncle  do  the  tipping  —  besides  he  probably  can't  af- 
ford it.  That's  the  reason  I  sent  the  carriage  —  you 
knew  that.  I  gave  you  that  quarter  for  that  especial 
purpose  —  I  thought  you  might  forget  it,  so  I  sent 
Fannie  to  remind  you,  but  I  suppose  she  didn't  get 
there  quick  enough  —  fleshy  people  can't  get  around 
very  fast.  Still  I  don't  see  why  you  didn't  remember 
it  in  time  yourself  —  I  don't  see  how  you  could  let 
your  Uncle  Marshall  pay  for  anything  while  he's  our 
guest  — " 

''  I  didn't  forget.  I  couldn't  help  it.  I  don't  think 
men  like  women  to  do  things  like  that  anyhow  —  not 
before  their  very  faces,  at  least  — " 

"  Very  well,  if  you  think  you  know  so  much  more 
about  men  than  I  do.  All  the  girls  know  more  about 
men  than  the  married  women  nowadays,  it  seems. 
No,  you  can  keep  the  quarter,  Nellie,  I  don't  want  it. 
I  gave  it  to  you  to  tip  the  driver  with,  and  I  considered 


46  THE  EUDDER 

it  gone  from  that  moment,  of  course,  so  you  may  as 
well  keep  it  — " 

Cook  got  up  vdth  a  violence  which  he  immediately 
controlled,  as  he  retreated  from  the  window.  "  O 
Lord ! ''  he  uttered  under  his  breath.  Then  he  looked 
at  his  own  vexed  and  dispirited  face  in  the  glass  with 
a  wry  smile.  '^  Same  old  thing!"  he  said  again, 
wearily  resigned. 


CHAPTER  III 

THIS  story  wMcli,  against  all  appearances  so 
far,  is  by  no  means  the  story  of  Mr.  Mar- 
shall Cook,  must  stick  to  that  gentleman's 
biography  for  a  while  yet ;  long  enough,  at  least,  to 
relate  certain  events  of  his  career  antedating  Com- 
mencement Day,  1904,  at  Cambridge  College.  He  is 
listed  in  ^YJlo's  Who?  and  the  year  of  his  birth,  1858, 
correctly  given  —  with  a  space  considerately  left  for 
that  of  his  death  —  together  with  some  other  relatively 
unimportant  information,  as  that  his  father's  name 
was  Horace  Cook,  his  mother's  Anne  Marshall,  his 
present  place  of  residence  Xew  York  City,  etc.  In  his 
native  town,  spite  of  its  unimaginable  growth  and 
change  during  the  half-century  since  he  was  born, 
there  still  remain  some  genealogically  minded  vet- 
erans who  will  tell  you  upon  inquiry :  '^  Cook?  Oh, 
yes,  he  s  one  of  that  old  Cook  family.  They're  all 
gone  now,  except  himself.  Well,  of  course,  there  are 
Eleanor's  girls,  but  one  wouldn't  call  them  Cools,  you 
know.  He  only  had  that  one  sister,  Eleanor  —  Mrs. 
Frank  Maranda.  Xot  th  is  Mrs.  Maranda,  she's  a  sec- 
ond wife.     Eleanor's  been  dead  for  years.'' 

Having  got  well  started,  the  oldest  inhabitant  may 
be  led  into  further  details ;  as,  for  instance,  that  the 
name  Maranda  which  to  many  ears  has  a  strongly 
foreign  sound,  is,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  English  or  per- 
haps Irish.     At  anv  rate,  Mr.  Maranda  came  from 

47 


48  THE  RUDDER 

Baltimore,  and  there  was  nothing  foreign  about  him, 
his  family  having  been  settled  in  America  —  the 
United  States,  that  is  —  for  two  or  three  generations. 
He  made  a  good  deal  of  money  in  the  insurance  busi- 
ness ;  indeed,  when  he  first  came  here,  it  was  to  man- 
age the  Middle- Western  branch  of  the  Baltimore  Mu- 
tual, and  that,  doubtless,  was  how  he  happened  to  get 
so  well  acquainted  with  Horace  Cook,  who  was  in  the 
Tri-State  Fire  and  Life  for  so  long.  Afterwards  Mar- 
anda  married  Eleanor ;  they  had  the  two  children,  just 
those  two  girls,  and  then  Eleanor  died.  That  was 
when  Nellie  —  the  older  daughter,  named  for  her 
mother  —  was  about  ten  years  old.  Sad,  wasn't  it? 
Here  very  likely  the  oldest  inhabitant  —  especially 
if  it  happens  to  be  a  lady  —  will  heave  a  sigh  of  relish, 
and  will  then  continue :  "  Nobody  could  blame  Mr. 
Maranda  for  marrying  again,  even  though  it  was  so 
soon  —  only  a  year.  What  was  he  to  do  with  those 
poor  little  motherless  children  —  and  girls  at  that  — 
with  his  business  on  his  mind,  and  no  one  to  trust  them 
to  —  nothing  but  servants?  A  man  is  so  helpless  in 
a  case  like  that !  "  It  seems  Mr.  Maranda  had  no 
feminine  relatives,  widowed  or  spinster  sisters, 
cousins  or  aunts,  to  step  into  the  breach;  none  came 
forward  with  such  an  offer,  anyhow.  Both  grand- 
parents on  the  Cook  side  had  died  shortly  before 
Eleanor.  Marshall,  then  a  lank  seedy  young  fellow 
who  had  a  position  with  the  Utopia  Buggy  Company 
book-keeping  and  was  no  earthly  good  at  it  or  at  any- 
thing else  —  people  thought  in  those  days  —  Marshall 
Cook  was  living  Avith  the  Marandas.  The  forlorn 
household  consisted  of  the  two  men,  the  two  children, 
fat  little  patient,  quiet  Fannie,  and  Nellie,  a  black- 
browed  youngster  Avith  a  frightful  temper,  it  was  re- 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  49 

ported.     Who  could  blame  Maranda,  sure  enough? 
Besides,  he  behaved  very  sensibly.     It  was  not  as  if 

—  the  gossips  remarked  to  one  another  approvingly 

—  he  had  gone  off  and  got  some  flighty,  frivolous,  ig- 
norant and  self -occupied  young  girl,  with  a  pretty 
face,  and  nothing  behind  it.  No,  he  made  a  suitable 
and  dignified  match.  The  second  wife  was  Juliet 
Morehead,  a  woman  of  his  own  age  —  some  people  said 
a  trifle  older  —  a  very  bright  woman  besides  being  a 
sweet,  lovely  character,  as  was  shown  by  the  way  she 
took  hold  of  and  administered  the  house,  and  mothered 
the  little  girls.  She  never  had  any  children  of  her 
own,  but  she  certainly  was  a  model  step-mother. 
That  notoriously  difficult  position  was  not  made  any 
easier  for  her  by  Nellie  Maranda,  the  one  ^v^th  the  tem- 
per, it  was  sometimes  rumoured ;  Fannie,  on  the  other 
hand,  probably  never  gave  her  any  trouble.  Fannie 
was  devoted  to  "  Aunt  Juliet " —  as  well  she  might  be, 
and  Nellie  too !  Mrs.  Maranda  —  they  said  —  did 
everything  for  those  girls,  everything ;  even  after 
Frank  Maranda's  death,  even  after  she  had  that  at- 
tack of  nervous  prostration  which  left  her  a  more  or 
less  helpless  invalid  for  the  rest  of  her  life,  she  kept 
on  living  with  them  and  "  doing "  for  them.  This, 
too,  in  face  of  the  fact  that  she  had  that  shiftless 
brother,  Homer  Morehead,  on  her  hands  and  was 
understood  to  be  constantly  "  doing  '^  for  him  and  his 
family,  too. 

For  Juliet  had  the  Morehead  money.  It  was  on 
account  of  the  manifest  shiftlessness  of  his  son, 
Homer,  that  old  Judge  Morehead  left  almost  all  of  his 
comfortable  fortune  to  his  daughter.  The  wisdom  of 
this  arrangement  was  proved  by  the  fact  that  Homer 
ran  through  his  share  in  no  time  at  all,  while  Juliet 


50  THE  KUDDER 

always  held  on  to  hers.  If  it  had  not  been  for  her, 
nobody  knows  what  would  have  become  of  Homer  — 
or  the  Maranda  girls  either,  as  Juliet  herself  used  to 
say  with  a  laugh.  She  always  made  light  of  what  she 
did  for  them  —  she  was  of  a  sunny,  kindly,  generous 
'  disposition.  "  Everybody  says  I'd  give  away  my  head, 
if  it  wasn't  fastened  on ! "  she  often  told  Fannie  and 
Nellie  gaily.  Yes,  it  was  fortunate  for  all  parties 
concerned  that  Juliet  had  money,  not  only  because  of 
Homer,  the  improvident  and  do-less,  with  his  large, 
improvident,  do-less  family,  but  because  when  Mr. 
Maranda  died  some  five  years  after  this  second  mar- 
riage, he  left  so  little.  He  had  made  a  handsome  in- 
come, but  they  must  have  lived  up  to  it  fully.  There 
were  some  bonds  for  Nellie  and  Fannie;  the  girls  had 
perhaps  five  hundred  a  year  between  them,  and  the 
Church  Street  house,  it  was  discovered,  stood  in  their 
names. 

'^  They  can't  live  on  that^  of  course  —  /  shall  have 
to  provide  for  them.  But  they  have  this  home,  and 
their  income  will  dress  them  both  nicely  —  with  what 
I  give  them,"  Mrs.  Juliet  told  all  their  friends,  in  her 
open  way.  She  believed  in  being  open,  insisted  on  ab- 
solute frankness  and  truthfulness  above  all  else.  ''  It 
would  put  you  girls  in  such  a  bad  light  to  outsiders  if 
they  saw  you  extravagantly  dressed  when  they  all 
know  how  dependent  you  are,"  she  pointed  out  to  them 
wisely  and  kindly.  ''  That  w^as  the  reason  I  thought 
I  ought  to  tell  Mrs.  Boynton  myself  that  that  elegant 
wrap  Fannie  was  wearing  was  one  of  mine  that  I  gave 
her  the  other  day.  I  told  her  about  it's  being  a  new 
one  that  I'd  only  worn  once  or  twice.  Fan.  I  wasn't 
going  to  have  her  going  around  saying  that  you  wore 
my  old  cast-off  clothes.     She  seemed  to  think  it  per- 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE     51 

fectly  wonderful  that  I  would  give  away  anything  so 
handsome  as  that,  but  I  said  to  her:  'Why,  Mrs. 
Boynton,  I  love  to  give  things  to  the  girls.  They're 
just  the  same  as  my  own  children,  and  don't  you  know 
that  a  mother's  greatest  delight  is  in  making  sacri- 
fices for  her  children  —  particularly  if  they  are  daugh- 
ters? I  Jove  to  do  for  the  girls.'  I  didn't  think  any- 
thing of  it;  you  know  it's  just  the  way  I  do  all  the 
time.  I  never  put  on  anything,  or  pretend  to  be  any- 
thing but  what  I  am.  But  you  ought  to  have  seen 
Mrs.  Boynton!  She  was  so  touched  that  her  face 
flushed  and  her  eyes  filled  up.  She  said :  '  Oh,  Mrs. 
Maranda,  you're  simply  the  best  woman  I  know ! ' 
Wasn't  that  ridiculous !  " 

"Yes,  wasn't  it!"  Nellie  agreed  promptly  and 
pleasantly  —  but  somehow  not  entirely  to  Mrs.  Mar- 
anda's  satisfaction.  She  felt  a  vague  discomfiture,  a 
vague  resentment,  and  said  to  herself  irrelevantly  that 
it  didn't  make  any  difference  how  much  she  did  for 
them,  Nellie  was  perfectly  unappreciative ! 

The  melancholy  and  discreditable  truth  is  that  Miss 
Eleanor  Maranda,  even  at  the  very  beginning  when  she 
was  a  mere  child,  refused,  sometimes  tacitly  by  those 
actions  that  speak  louder  than  words,  sometimes  — 
when  she  flew  into  one  of  her  rages  —  a  haute  voix, 
with  sharp  and  singularly  well-aimed  speeches,  to  join 
in  the  chorus  of  praise  and  admiration  raised  by 
everybody  else  around  her  step-mother.     She  evaded 
Mrs.  Maranda's  profuse  caresses,  and  never  made  the 
slightest  motion  towards  returning  them,  she  declined 
to  say  she  loved  the  new  mother,  declined  in  so  many 
words  to  believe  that  the  new  mother  loved  her,  de- 
clined to  obey  her,  would  have  declined  to  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  her  at  all,  had  that  course  been  pos- 


52  THE  RUDDER 

sible.  As  she  grew  older,  the  corrective  discipline  she 
incurred  —  and  undoubtedly  deserved  —  seemed  in- 
deed to  develop  another  spirit  in  the  girl,  but  one  to- 
tally different  from  what  might  have  been  expected, 
and  still  intractable;  she  was  neither  sulky  nor  sub- 
missive ;  she  did  not  fawn,  she  did  not  rebel ;  her  man- 
ner toward  the  older  woman  crystallised  into  a  kind  of 
hard  and  brilliant  civility  with  which  no  one  could 
reasonably  have  found  fault,  yet  which  at  times  con- 
trived to  be  more  offensive  than  the  grossest  ill-breed- 
ing. "You  treat  me  just  as  if  I  were  a  stranger!  " 
Mrs.  Maranda  complained  with  tears.  "  Don't  you 
want  me  to  be  as  polite  to  you  as  I  would  be  to  a 
stranger?"  inquired  Nellie  evenly.  The  other  found 
herself  without  a  retort,  and  that  naturally  aggravated 
the  grievance;  for  not  the  least  irritating  quality  of 
Nellie's  manner  was  that  it  suggested  cleverness.  If 
there  must  be  people  who  dislike  us,  we  would  rather 
they  should  be  notoriously  dull  people ;  somehow,  any 
display  of  intelligence  or  good  taste  on  their  part,  in 
other  directions,  affronts  us !  Perhaps  Mrs.  Maranda, 
notwithstanding  the  sweet  pride  in  and  affection  for 
the  two  girls,  about  which  her  friends  were  continually 
lauding  her,  was  not  too  well-pleased  when  the  same 
friends  with  the  best  intentions  in  the  world,  brought 
her  reports  of  Nellie's  brightness  in  class,  Nellie's  un- 
deniable grace  and  good  looks,  Nellie's  quickness  of 
tongue  and  sense  of  humour.  "  Yes,  she  is  not  at  all 
an  ordinary  girl  —  rather  difficulty  sometimes,  you 
know,"  she  would  permit  herself  to  say  with  a  signifi- 
cant sigh.  And  the  visitor,  remembering  those  tales 
of  Nellie's  temper  —  true  tales  they  were,  too !  — 
would  go  away  moved  and  wondering  at  Mrs.  Mar- 
anda's   patience   and  unselfishness  —  Mrs.   Maranda 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  53 

herself  used  to  wonder  at  her  own  patience  and  un- 
selfishness for  that  matter. 

For  Nellie  icas  difficult.  Letting  alone  that  unkind 
and  groundless  prejudice  against  her  father's  second 
wife,  letting  alone  that  capacity  for  making  herself 
disagreeable  already  described,  the  girl  was  full  of  the 
strangest  whims  —  whims  of  laughing  over  things  in- 
comprehensibly non-humorous  to  Mrs.  Maranda,  and 
on  the  other  hand  of  crying  in  the  wrong  place  for  the 
wrong  reason.  Though,  as  has  been  seen,  she  must 
have  been  cold-hearted  in  the  extreme  to  have  treated 
her  step-mother  as  she  did,  Nellie  could  be  inordinately 
tender  to  such  unresponsive  creatures  as  her  animal 
pets ;  she  would  be  forever  bringing  in  orphan  kittens, 
mangy  dogs,  trapped  sparrows  off  the  street  and  tend- 
ing them  and  ministering  to  them  by  the  hour ;  she  was 
even  known  to  have  stopped  deliberately  outside  a 
saloon  (of  all  places  I)  where  some  drayman's  team 
happened  to  be  standing,  and  washed  off  the  horses' 
sweaty  collar-sore  necks  in  the  watering-trough! 
Mrs.  Juliet  was  very  properly  scandalised;  she  read 
Nellie  a  long  and  —  for  once  —  a  severe  lecture. 
"  This  is  no  more  than  what  your  dear  father  would 
have  said  to  you.  .  .  .''  ^'  I  am  only  anxious  to  pre- 
vent your  thoughtlessly  bringing  disgTace  on  his  name. 
.  .  .''  ^'  When  a  girl  makes  herself  common  in  such  a 
way,  people  naturally  blame  those  who  have  brought 
her  up.  .  .  .''  ^'  I  shall  have  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
explaining  this  conduct  of  yours  to  outsiders.  Try  to 
remember  that  when  you  have  any  of  these  T\ild  im- 
pulses. Just  say  to  yourself:  'It  will  give  Aunt 
Juliet  trouble,  and  which  is  the  more  unkind,  to  let 
this  horse  or  cow  or  whatever  it  is  go,  or  to  give  some- 
body trouble? '     Just  ask  yourself  that,  Eleanor,  and 


54  THE  RUDDER 

I'm  sure  you  won't  ever  do  anything  coarse  or  unlady- 
like again.  .  .  .''  These  are  a  few  excerpts  from  Mrs. 
Maranda's  gentle  and  judicious  remarks;  and  she 
wound  up  by  announcing  with  firmness :  "  I  believe 
in  being  kind  to  dumb  animals,  but  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  carrying  kindness  to  extremes,  and  I  will 
have  to  say  to  you,  Eleanor,  that  I  will  not  have  any 
more  of  those  nasty,  dirty  pets  of  yours  in  my  house." 

"  In  whose  house?  "  said  Nellie,  with  her  deadly 
smoothness.  And  there  was  a  silence  while  Mrs. 
Maranda's  justifiable  wrath,  her  justifiably  hurt  feel- 
ings gathered  head. 

^'  I  don't  think  that  you  would  live  in  your  house 
( since  you  are  so  bent  upon  having  me  understand  that 
it  is  your  house)  very  long  without  me,  Eleanor,"  she 
said  with  a  reproachful  dignity.  "  Aren't  you  your- 
self forgetting  something?  It  costs  a  good  deal  for 
all  of  us  to  live  here,  Nellie." 

"  That's  just  what  I  was  thinking !  It  costs  you  so 
much,  and  you  don't  really  have  to  do  it.  Fannie  and 
I  and  Uncle  Marsh  could  scratch  along  somehow,  and 
in  conscience  nobody  could  blame  you  if  you  went  and 
lived  with  your  dear  brother.  They  need  help  more, 
and  they  are  ever  so  much  nicer  than  we  are  —  or  than 
/  am,  at  any  rate.  You  wouldn't  have  the  responsi- 
bility of  me  any  longer,  and  instead  of  only  Fannie 
to  wait  on  you,  there  would  be  all  the  Morehead  chil- 
dren, and  they  are  seven,  aren't  they?  They  were  at 
last  accounts.  Only  one  Fannie  and  seven  dear, 
sweet,  loving  nephews  and  nieces :  Ella  and  Louise 
and  Jamie  and  Caroline  and  —  what's  the  name  of 
the  one  with  the  hare-lip?  —  Douglas?  David's  the 
baby,  I  believe — " 

"  I  will  not  stay  here  to  be  insulted  this  way !  "  said 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  55 

Mrs.  Maranda,  and  got  up  trembling  with  the  im- 
potent anger  which  Nellie  seemed  to  know  how  to 
arouse  in  her,  even  by  a  method  at  once  so  bizarre  and 
so  simple  as  the  enumeration  of  Homer  s  children. 
She  rustled  to  the  door,  clutching  blindly  at  the 
knob.  "  Where  is  Fannie?  Tell  Fannie  to  come  to 
me  and  bring  the  aromatic  spirits  of  ammonia  — '' 

"  And  there  would  be  Mrs.  Homer,  too  —  your  dear 
sister-in-law  that  you're  so  fond  of,''  Nellie  went  on, 
callously  smiling.  ^'  You  know  you'd  love  to  live 
with  her  — " 

But  Mrs.  Maranda  was  gone.  Strange  to  relate, 
Nellie  could  rout  her  at  any  time  by  these  references. 
Yet  few  of  us  would  consider  ourselves  "  insulted  " 
by  the  mention  of  our  relatives  in  terms  so  amiable. 
Homer  Morehead,  it  was  true,  had  in  the  everyday 
phrase  '^  married  beneath  him.''  He  married  a  cham- 
bermaid in  some  third-rate  hotel  down  town,  having 
first  met  her,  gossip  unkindly  reported,  when  she  was 
taking  care  of  him  during  a  prolonged  spell  of  sober- 
ing up  after  an  equally  prolonged  spree.  By  this 
time,  fifteen  years  had  gone  over;  the  pretty  girl  of 
those  days  was  now  a  fat„  blowsy,  loud,  good-natured 
slattern ;  there  was  a  houseful  of  fat,  loud,  slatternly 
girls,  and  unkempt  louts  of  boys.  From  a  visit  there, 
one  came  away  with  weird  memories  of  smells  of 
cooking  and  cheap  perfumery  commingled ;  of  sounds 
of  doors  banging,  dishes  clattering,  the  piano  metal- 
lically discoursing  rag-time  airs;  of  the  sight  of 
plusli  picture-frames,  the  parlour  fire-place  densely 
smoking,  Mrs.  Homer  in  a  dress  with  grease-spots 
down  the  front  and  the  placket-hole  open.  Brother 
or  no  brother,  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  some 
people  to  exist  in  such  an  environment;  but  Mrs. 


56  THE  EUDDER 

Maranda,  as  slie  often  said,  would  gladly  have  gone 
to  live  with  the  Moreheads,  so  as  to  help  them  along, 
only  for  the  fact  that  in  her  invalid  state,  she  would 
have  been  merely  an  added  care  in  that  already  care- 
burdened  household.  '^  They  can't  keep  any  servant, 
of  course,  and  a  person  who  is  laid  on  the  shelf  as 
I  have  to  be,  can't  help  but  be  a  care,  I  know  that. 
I  do  all  I  can  for  them  in  other  ways,''  Mrs.  Juliet 
would  explain  to  a  circle  of  sympathising  admirers. 
She  was  absolutely  honest;  she  believed  every  w^ord 
she  uttered.  Nellie  perversely  chose  to  disbelieve; 
but  even  so,  why  should  the  above  innocent-sounding 
speeches  have  irritated  the  older  lady,  affectionate 
and  self-sacrificing  sister  that  she  was?  Impossible 
to  guess. 

For  a  grateful  contrast,  Fannie  Maranda  was  never 
known  to  say  a  word  or  behave  in  any  way  that  was 
not  dutiful,  obedient,  and  becoming  to  her  name  and 
upbringing.  She  was  as  pretty  in  the  blond  colour- 
ing as  Nellie  in  the  dark,  her  features  even  more 
nearly  regular  and  neatly  outlined ;  and  —  to  keep  on 
with  the  comparison  —  if  she  was  not  quite  so  clever 
as  the  older  sister,  she  was  still  quite  clever  enough  — 
"  whenever  she  had  the  chance,"  the  other  girls  of 
their  set  would  sometimes  add.  According  to  them, 
the  main  thing  she  lacked  w^as  some  odd,  purely  phys- 
ical quality  of  brightness  which  Nellie  most  markedly 
possessed ;  they  called  it  ^^ styles'  with  impressive  em- 
phasis, whenever  they  tried  to  give  it  a  name  at  all, 
and  not  infrequently  pronounced  the  opinion  that 
Fannie  would  show  it,  too  — "  if  she  ever  had  a 
chance."  Pressed  to  explain  this  more  or  less  ob- 
scure utterance,  the  young  things  were  generally  at 
fault;  they  could  not  say  exactly  what  it  was  that 


THE  EETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE     57 

made  Fannie  so  different  from  everybody  else,  espe- 
cially from  her  own  sister;  they  vigorously  denied 
that  Nellie  eclipsed  her  intentionally  or  not ;  it  would 
seem  that  Fannie  deliberately  preferred  the  shadow. 
She  stayed  at  home  a  great  deal;  she  said  she  didn't 
care  to  go  out;  whenever  you  went  there  she  was  al- 
ways busy,  reading  to  Mrs.  Maranda,  or  doing  some 
sewing ;  Fannie  was  "  aw^f ully  devoted  "  to  Mrs.  Mar- 
anda. Nellie  wasn't  —  Nellie  was,  well,  you  know, 
more  original ,  But  Fannie  w^as  just  as  sweet  as 
could  be,  and  she'd  have  a  good  time,  if  anybody  ever 
let  her  have  a  chance! 

And  what,  all  the  w^hile,  was  Mr.  Marshall  Cook 
doing  in  this  galere?  Nothing  of  any  importance  — 
nothing  at  all,  from  his  sister-in-law's  point  of  view, 
although  he  went  do^^Ti  to  the  office  every  morning 
and  came  home  every  night,  and  paid  his  board  punc- 
tually, and  had  no  bills  or  bad  habits ;  and,  in  short, 
conducted  himself  like  any  other  respectable  gentle- 
man of  her  acquaintance,  except  in  the  matter  of  his 
taste  for  letters.  Mrs.  Juliet  used  to  inveigh  com- 
passionately against  his  spending  so  much  time  over 
those  stories  and  "  things  "  he  was  always  trying  to 
write.  '^  It  takes  genius  to  w^rite  anything,  you  know, 
Marshall.  And  I  don't  believe  even  the  geniuses 
make  much  of  a  living  at  it ;  it  must  be  so  precarious. 
They  can't  ever  be  sure  that  what  they  write  is  going 
to  sell  or  not.  Of  course,  if  you  could  only  w^ite 
something  good  the  magazines  w^ould  take  it;  but  to 
earn  anything  like  a  steady  income,  you'd  have  to  keep 
on  writing  good  things,  and  that  would  be  a  fearful 
strain.  As  it  is,  you  keep  on  sending  those  things  and 
sending  them,  and  the  editors  send  them  straight 
back ;  and  there's  all  that  time  wasted,  that  you  can't 


58  THE  RUDDER 

ever  bring  back !  You  might  be  doing  something  use- 
ful or  improving  yourself ;  at  least  you  ought  to  stick 
to  your  book-keeping.'' 

^^  I  believe  I  do  stick  to  my  book-keeping/'  said 
Marshall. 

"  Oh,  yes.  But  you  know  what  I  mean ;  your  head 
is  full  of  this  other  thing  all  the  time — " 

"  Not  during  office-hours !  "  said  Marshall ;  and  he 
added  with  determined  good-humour :  "  Come  now, 
Juliet,  if  I  choose  to  fritter  away  my  spare  hours 
writing,  it's  very  sad  to  witness,  of  course,  but  you 
don't  need  to  have  it  on  your  mind.  I'm  willing  for 
you  to  tell  me  how  to  do  my  duty,  but  why  not  let  me 
take  my  pleasure  my  own  way?  " 

"  I  don't  see  how  it  can  be  any  pleasure  to  you  to 
work  so  hard  over  those  stories  and  then  have  them 
all  sent  back  time  after  time,"  said  the  lady  reason- 
ably. "  You  know  you  can  keep  books.  I'd  rather 
be  a  good  book-keeper  than  a  failure  writing  stories ; 
it  would  be  more  dignified.  It's  not  just  my  ow^n 
judgment,  either,  Marshall,  everyljody  says  the  same 
thing." 

Marshall  let  her  have  the  last  word;  in  fact,  what 
was  there  for  him  to  say?  There  were  moments  when 
the  young  fellow  —  he  was  still  a  young  fellow  at  this 
time  —  felt  a  depressing  conviction  that  she  was  right. 
The  only  defence  he  had  was  the  fact  of  his  being, 
contrary  to  popular  belief,  a  very  good  book-keeper. 
He  had  enough  intelligence  and  humour  to  realise  that 
the  book-keeping  was  his  sheet-anchor  to  windward, 
and  the  strength  of  character  to  hold  to  it,  at  all 
events  until  he  could  be  fairly  certain  of  an  equal 
independence  following  the  trade  of  his  choice;  even 
then,  book-keeping  might  still  be  an  anchor  in  re- 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  59 

serve,  so  to  sj^eak.  "  If  literature  fails,  there  is  al- 
ways the  wood-pile/'  he  would  quote,  resolutely  light- 
hearted.  The  office-desk  was  Marshall's  wood-pile; 
the  hours  he  put  in  earning  his  hundred  dollars  a 
month  balanced,  he  thought,  those  other  hours  of 
arduous  idleness,  Sundays,  holidays,  long,  toilsome, 
delightful  niglits.  In  justice  to  him,  it  ought  to  be 
said  that  he  never  took  himself  too  seriously ;  he  was 
always  ready  to  make  sport  of  his  fruitless  efforts. 
It  was  partly  because  that  seemed  to  him  the  most  un- 
assailable pose;  be  yourself  the  first  one  to  laugh  at 
yourself.  After  such  conversations  as  the  above  with 
Mrs.  Maranda,  he  would  go  and  start  an  essay  .  .  . 
"  Failure  imposes  no  responsibilities ;  so  that  to  fail 

—  within  limits  —  is  to  lead  the  most  easy-going  and 
independent  of  lives.  Success  buys  a  man's  freedom, 
and  by  a  masterstroke  of  irony,  impoverishes  him  at 
the  same  time  .  .  ."  and  so  forth,  in  as  near  an  imita- 
tion as  he  could  compass  of  Stevenson,  Bacon,  Mon- 
taigne, whomsoever  he  happened  to  have  been  reading 
last.  Mercy  on  us,  what  a  deskful  of  lyrics,  sonnets, 
sketches,  stories,  critical  and  philosophical  disserta- 
tions accumulated  before  Success  began  simultane- 
ously to  reward  and  impoverish  him  I  His  room  — 
it  was  not  then  the  pink  and  white  shell  in  which  we 
have  since  beheld  him  but  a  prosaic  apartment  ^^th  a 
little  sheet-iron  gas-stove  and  a  black  walnut  bureau 

—  would  have  overflowed  with  manuscripts,  had  he 
not  been  a  man  of  methodical  and  old-maidish  habits. 
As  Mrs.  Maranda  pointed  out,  the  literary  productions 
invariably  returned.  ^'  In  the  economy  of  creation  — 
my  creation  —  nothing  is  ever  destroyed.  It  only 
changes  its  form  I  "  Cook  would  say  with  Spartan 
laughter,  as  he  burned  them  up,  one  by  one. 


60  THE  EUDDER 

He  must  have  been  hard  upon  thirty  years  old  be- 
fore he  achieved  recognition  —  reputation  would  be 
too  large  a  word.  Eleanor  was  seventeen  or  so  when 
her  uncle  went  to  New  York  to  live.  "  All  the  best 
talent  in  the  country  gravitates  to  New  York  sooner 
or  later,  you  know/'  Mrs.  Maranda  explained  to  that 
part  of  the  public  which  now  suddenly  began  to  take 
an  interest  in  Marshall  Cook.  She  herself  had  al- 
ways done  so,  always  believed  in  his  powers,  always 
encouraged  him,  she  said  —  and  sincerely  thought. 
Her  gTatification  at  seeing  Marshall's  name  and  work 
in  print,  actually  bought  and  paid  for,  was  not  the 
less  kind  and  genuine  for  being  coupled  with  a  naive 
astonishment.  "  It  does  seem  wonderful,  doesn't  it? 
But  I  alwaj^s  said  you  had  it  in  you,  Marshall.  / 
knew  you  would  amount  to  something  some  day,  in 
spite  of  what  everybody  else  said,"  she  proclaimed 
with  pride.  Cook  laughed  and  Nellie  laughed  too, 
with  disproportionate  heartiness,  it  seemed  to  Mrs. 
Maranda,  who  had  spoken  without  humorous  intent; 
but  it  was  only  natural  for  Marshall  to  be  in  good 
spirits,  she  reflected,  and  as  for  Nellie,  the  girl  was 
forever  copying  him. 

So  Mr.  Cook  went;  and  he  did  not  come  back,  ex- 
cept for  short  and  infrequent  visits.  By  the  facts 
that  he  was  noticeably  spruce  in  appearance  on  these 
and  on  other  occasions  w^hen  people  ran  across  him  in 
New  York,  that  he  never  seemed  to  be  at  all  low  in 
pocket,  was  known  to  have  travelled  mdely,  had  a 
new  novel  out  every  year  or  so,  and  sent  Nellie  and 
Fannie,  of  whom  he  was  fond  in  his  way,  generous 
presents  which  the  girls  freely  talked  about  and 
showed  —  by  these  facts,  the  community  surmised 
that  Marshall  Cook  had  "  made  good."     And  when  he 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  61 

wrote  that  volume  of  picaresque  tales  containing  the 
perfectly  dreadful  one  called  The  Adventure  of  Silvio 
and  the  Fair  Venetian,  the  one  that  was  dramatised 
afterwards,  and  the  Public  Morals  League  used  in- 
fluence with  the  major  to  prevent  its  being  produced 
—  when  that  happened,  I  say,  everybody  knew  that 
Marshall  Cook  had  definitely  "arrived/'  and  was 
probably  on  the  road  to  fortune! 


CHAPTER  IV 

DINNER  went  off  without  incident,  Cook  ac- 
cepting and  discharging  the  role  of  domestic 
hero  with  the  good  grace  he  could  always 
command.  The  little  man  remembered  earlier  days 
when  his  comfort  and  approval  had  not  been  so 
strenuously  sought  after  with  an  amusement  en- 
tirely humane.  "  '  I  was  not  ever  thus  .  .  .  but 
now — ow ! ' ''  he  quoted  at  himself  with  gusto.  He 
thought  all  three  women  presented  feminine  types 
well  worth  study.  "  What  would  happen  if  I  should 
fall  to  swearing  at  the  servant,  and  calling  the  coffee 
slop?"  he  speculated  inwardly.  "Why,  nothing  at 
all,  probably  I  Juliet  would  simply  bow  before  the 
familiar  manifestation  of  the  Eternal  Male;  she  might 
even  be  a  little  proud  of  her  acquaintance  with  the 
artistic  temperament  en  deshahille!  Poor  Fannie 
would  go  away  and  cry  —  quietly  in  a  corner  where 
I  couldn't  see  her.  Eleanor  —  well,  Eleanor  is  much 
more  of  a  problem.  She  might  fly  out  and  tell  me  I 
was  a  coarse  brute;  she  might  rend  me  with  deft 
sarcasm ;  or  she  might  —  yes,  she  actually  might  put 
her  neck  under  my  heel!  Even  intelligent  women 
seem  to  have  that  extraordinary  liking  for  masculine 
tyranny  — " 

His  sister-in-law  unconsciously  interrupted.  "  I 
don't  want  the  tenderloin,  Marshall,"  she  cried  out 
energetically  from  her  end  of  the  table.  "  I  never 
have  allowed  myself  to  get  into  that  selfish,  mean 

\)2 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  G3 

liabit  of  having  dainties  cooked  up  for  me  separately, 
or  taking  the  choicest  bits  on  the  dish.  You  take  it, 
take  that  piece  you  just  cut,  and  give  me  off  of  the  sir- 
loin side.  I  don't  care  whether  I'm  sick  or  well,  I 
simply  tcon't  be  pampered.'' 

'^  It  isn't  everybody  that  has  your  power  of  self- 
sacrifice  and  self-control,"  said  Cook,  helping  himself 
obediently. 

"  No,  that's  what  people  are  always  telling  me. 
They  seem  to  think  it  so  wonderful  in  a  person  as  sick 
as  I  have  been  for  so  long.  /  don't  think  anything  of 
it  at  all!  It's  perfectly  natural  to  me  to  be  that 
way.  Too  funny !  —  Mattie,  that's  our  scrubwoman 
that  we  have  to  come  in  and  clean  every  now  and  then, 
was  here  the  other  day  to  do  the  curtains,  and  Fannie 
wheeled  my  chair  out  in  the  yard  so  that  I  could  give 
directions,  and  right  in  the  middle  of  putting  the  cur- 
tains on  the  frames,  Mattie  stof>ped  short  and  said: 
*  Well,  Mis'  M'randa ' —  that's  the  way  she  talks,  you 
know — ^you  sut'n'y  is  wunnerful,  settin'  there  in 
that  sick-chair,  jes'  runnin'  ev'thing  lak  you  was  as 
strong  as  anybody ! '  ^  Nothing  wonderful  about  it, 
Mattie,'  I  said.  ^  I  just  make  up  my  mind  to  do  it  I ' 
She  said  just  what  you  said  just  now,  Marshall,  that's 
what  made  me  think  of  her  —  ^  Well,  Mis'  M'randy, 
there  sut'n'y  ain't  many  lak  you.  You  is  got  more 
will-power  than  anybody  I  ever  saw.'  " 

"You're  vindicated.  Uncle  Marsh,"  said  Eleanor. 
"Mattie's  a  judge.  It's  something  for  you  to  be  in 
Mattie's  class." 

"Wasn't  that  the  telephone?"  Fannie  interposed 
hastily ;  she  looked  from  her  uncle  to  her  sister  ^ith 
troubled,  appealing  blue  eyes.  Perhaps  luckily,  the 
telephone  had  indeed  begun  to  ring;  Nellie  jumped  up^ 


€4  THE  RUDDER 

quite  as  a  matter  of  course,  it  appeared,  to  answer  it. 
The  instrument  stood  on  a  table  in  tlie  hall  whence 
they  could  presently  hear  her  end  of  the  conversation, 
light  exclamations,  laughter,  subtle  catchwords  im- 
I^enetrable  to  the  layman,  but  evidently  of  some  deep, 
ridiculous  import  —  it  was  charmingly  silly  and 
youthful  and  gay. 

"  That  does  remind  me  so  much  of  the  times  when 
you  were  at  home,  Marshall,"  said  Mrs.  Juliet,  with 
a  reminiscent  sigh.  ^^  Don't  you  remember  how  Eliza 
Grace  used  to  call  you  up  and  talk  forever?  And 
then  you'd  call  her  up  and  talk  forever!  I  had  to 
tell  you  that  you  oughtn't  to  use  the  telephone  all  day 
long  like  that.  Don't  you  remember  how  I  used  to 
tell  you?" 

"  Yes.  You  told  me,"  said  the  author.  Innocent 
words  enough,  but  Fannie  looked  worried  again ;  pos- 
sibly Mrs.  Maranda  detected  some  note  of  warning 
which  she  interpreted  after  her  own  fashion. 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  — "  she  checked  herself. 
^^  Bessie  Grace  isn't  married  yety  did  you  know?  " 
she  said,  with  a  kind  of  elaborate  avoidance  of  signifi- 
cance. "  She  must  be  every  day  of  thirty-five.  Those 
same  beautiful  teeth,  though,  still." 

"  Thirty-five  would  be  a  little  early  to  install  false 
ones,  wouldn't  it?  "  said  Marshall,  fairly  moved  to 
laughter  against  his  will. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  that  —  I  was  only  trying  to  give 
you  some  idea  of  how  little  she  has  changed.  You'd 
know  her  at  once." 

"  I  daresay  I  would.  I  see  Miss  Grace  sometimes 
at  that  summer  place  they  have  down  on  Long  Island. 
I  go  down  there  once  in  a  while  —  weak-ends,  you 
know." 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  65 

'^  Oh! ''  said  Mrs.  Maranda,  somewhat  taken  aback; 
then  she  laughed  amiably.  "  Well,  I  might  have 
known  J  if  I  had  stopped  to  think.  It's  a  very  hand- 
some place,  isn't  it?  They  have  vso  much  money. 
After  all,  it's  no  wonder  Bessie's  never  married.  She 
could  always  have  everything  she  w^anted  anyhow. 
She  doesn't  need  to  marry." 

Cook  privately  uttered  an  ejaculation  much  in  the 
style  of  those  he  had  recently  uttered,  but  to  quite  an- 
other power,  shocking  to  relate.  "  Oh, —  I  Same  old 
thing !  "  he  thought  fiercely.  He  even  began  aloud : 
"  I  really  don't  believe  Miss  Grace — "  but  having  by 
the  time  he  got  that  far,  got  himself  in  hand  again, 
and  into  his  inveterate  mood  of  ironic  contemplation, 
he  let  the  speech  merge  unobtrusively,  as  it  w^ere,  into 
a  sip  of  coffee.  Why  should  he  take  up  the  cudgels 
in  behalf  of  Bessie  Grace?  Silence  would  serve  hei* 
better;  and  as  to  himself,  silence  invariably  served 
Mm  best  in  Mrs.  Maranda's  company. 

Nellie  came  back  just  then,  bright-eyed,  with  a 
higher  pink  in  her  clear,  dark  cheeks,  smiling  a  little 
consciously,  even  defiantly,  as  she  met  their  inquir- 
ing looks.  "  It  was  Mr.  Loring,"  she  said  to  Cook, 
slipping  into  her  chair.  ''  He  said  he  was  going  to 
telephone,  you  know — "  She  paused  expectantly, 
and  then,  as  nobody  had  anything  to  say,  added: 
"  He  wants  to  take  us  out  to-morrow  afternoon  in  his 
machine." 

"  Us?  "  repeated  her  uncle.     "  You  mean  you  girls." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  go,"  said  Fannie  nervously.  "  I've 
got  to  finish  something  I'm  doing.  I  don't  want  to 
go." 

"  I  Mion't  suppose  he  really  expects  my  company  or 
yours.  Fan,"  Mrs.  Maranda  said,  beginning  to  laugh. 


66  THE  RUDDER 

"  I  never  go  anywhere,  and  you  liate  the  wind  and 
dust  so.  He  must  have  known  it  was  perfect!}^  safe 
to  include  us/^ 

"He  said  everybody/'  said  Nellie  belligerently. 
"  Fannie  doesn't  take  the  time  to  go  automobiling 
often  enough  to  find  out  whether  she  minds  the  wind 
and  dust  or  not  — '' 

^^  Don^t,  Nell,  please! '^  Fannie  said  in  an  under- 
tone. 

Nellie  didn't;  that  is  to  say,  she  at  once  moderated 
her  voice  and  manner  to  the  formidable  politeness  she 
had  cultivated.  It  had  the  air  of  having  been  ac- 
quired from  Cook  himself  by  inheritance  or  associa- 
tion or  direct  imitation,  for  it  was  at  these  moments 
that  she  most  resembled  him. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Fannie,  I  forgot,"  she  said,  earnestly  peni- 
tent ;  "  you  w^ant  to  get  that  embroidered  waist  3^ou>e 
making  for  Aunt  Juliet  done.  That's  important  — 
yes,  you  ought  to  stay  at  home  and  finish  that,  by  all 
means  — " 

"  But  I  leant  to  —  I  like  it  — "  said  the  other  girl 
vehemently.  She  altered  her  form  of  adjuration, 
glancing  apologetically  at  her  uncle.  "  Now,  Nellie, 
do  — !  Isn't  she  funny.  Uncle  Marshall  ?  She  thinks 
everybody  hates  sewing  because  she  does." 

"  Any  one  would  suppose,  to  hear  Eleanor,  that  I 
made  a  slave  of  Fannie,"  said  Mrs.  Maranda,  indig- 
nantly. "  She  ivill  do  it,  Marshall.  I  try  my  best 
to  stop  her,  but  she  will  do  it.  You  love  to  sew  for 
me,  don't  you.  Fan?  " 

"  Why,  of  course  I  do.  Aunt  Juliet.  And  besides, 
I'd  like  to  see  anybody  make  me  if  I  didn't  want  to !  " 
Fannie  asserted  with  prodigious  spirit.  "  Don't  be 
such  a  goosie,  Nell!     I'd  rather  be  sitting  here  nice 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  67 

and  cool  and  quiet  than  tearing  aroimd  a  whole  after- 
noon in  all  this  heat  and  dust  in  somebody's  old 
automobile  I  " 

^'  There!  You  see,  Marshall  I"  said  Mrs.  Maranda 
triumphantly.  "  Fan  and  I  understand  each  other, 
don't  we?  "  She  stretched  out  her  hand,  and  squeezed 
her  niece's  affectionately. 

"  Besides,  it's  just  as  Aunt  Juliet  says,''  Fannie 
went  on;  ^'  I  don't  believe  Mr.  Loring  expects  me  for 
one  minute." 

Eleanor  eyed  her  sister  with  a  peculiar  expression, 
seeing  which  Cook  thought  it  high  time  to  intervene 
mth  the  suggestion  that  Amzi  Two  hardly  seemed  to 
be  enough  of  a  diplomat  for  the  behaviour  ascribed  to 
him.  "  At  any  rate,  Fve  been  asked,  and  Fm  going 
just  as  if  I  thought  he  meant  it ! ''  he  declared.  "  How 
about  you,  Nellie?  " 

"  Oh,  I  accepted  right  away.  I  don't  care  a  thing 
about  doing  my  duty ;  I'm  going  to  have  a  good  time," 
said  Nellie,  incomprehensibly.  She  kept  on,  overrid- 
ing Fannie's  low-voiced  prayer,  '^  Please j  Nellie  —  I  " 
"  You  know,  Uncle  Marshall,  I  think  that's  so  good 
that  you  make  the  old  watch-mender,  old  John  Deer- 
ing  say  —  in  The  Wagon  and  The  Star^  you  know? 
—  where  you  make  him  say :  ^  You  do  your  duty  and 
you'll  be  made  a  convenience  of.  That's  all  doing 
your  duty  ever  gets  you  I '     I  think  that's  so  good  I '' 

''  Thank  you,"  said  Marshall,  ^\dth  a  slight  grin. 
"  Personally  though,  it's  my  belief  that  there  may  be 
a  certain  spiritual  satisfaction  to  be  got  out  of  it. 
Shall  we  return  to  our  mutton?  What  time  is  young 
Mr.  Loring  coming  for  us?  " 

^' About  four  o'clock.  But — "  Nellie  hesitated; 
then  she  explained  precipitately,  as  if  to  hurry  it  over 


68  THE  EUDDER 

and  be  done  with  it,  that  she  believed  the  invitation 
came  in  part  from  old  Mr.  Loring — "  The  other  one, 
the  young  one,  said  his  father  thought  you  —  you 
might  like  to  go  through  one  of  their  plants/'  the  girl 
finished  with  some  diffidence. 

^^  One  of  their  plants?  Their  ice  factories?  Do 
you  mean  to  say  they  have  more  than  one?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  They  have  a  chain  —  they  call  it  a  chain, 
you  know.  It's  —  it's  a  trade  term,  I  daresay,"  said 
Nellie  still  diffidently,  reddening.  ^^  Don't  laugh, 
Uncle  Marsh ! " 

"  I'm  not  laughing.  I'm  lost  in  admiration  of  that 
figure  of  speech.  A  chain  of  ice  factories!  It's 
stupendous ;  it  gives  you  some  idea  of  what  it  must  be 
to  be  an  ice-king.  One?  I  want  to  see  the  whole 
what-d'ye-call-it  —  the  parure  — " 

"  I  don't  see  what  there  is  so  funny  about  it  — 
you're  just  teasing,  Uncle  Marsh.  You  know  I 
couldn't  help  saying  you'd  love  to  go.  They  —  they 
w^ant  to  show  you  some  attention  —  they  only  want 
to  be  nice,"  Nellie  protested  hotly.  For  this  one  time 
she  did  not  avail  herself  of  the  arsenal  of  barbed  little 
ironies  she  ordinarily  kept  at  hand.  All  at  once  her 
small  squared  chin  quivered ;  her  lips  that  were  oddly 
and  attractively  squared  at  the  corners  quivered  so 
that  she  had  trouble  to  manage  the  words.  "  They're 
so  interested  in  their  business  they  think  it  must 
be  interesting  to  everybody.  I  think  it's  fine  for 
anybody  to  feel  that  way.  It's  —  it's  so  big  and 
"inanly!  '^ 

"Why,  of  course,  Nell  —  I  understand.  It's  all 
right  for  Mr.  Loring  to  be  proud  of  his  work  and  to 
like  to  show  it  off  to  people;  that's  the  w^ay  a  man 
ought  to  feel,"  said  Cook,  contrite,  surprised,  remotely 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  69 

disquieted.  "  I  wasn't  making  fun  of  him.  It  is 
very  nice  of  him  to  want  to  entertain  me.  To  be 
sure,  I  don't  know — "  he  stopped  and  fingered  his 
napkin  an  instant.  "  I  don't  know  much  about 
machinery.  Hope  I  won't  seem  abysmally  dull  when 
they  try  to  explain  things  to  me,"  he  ended  fluently 
enough,  although  that  was  not  what  he  had  set  out 
to  say.  "  I  don't  know  why  they  should  exert  them- 
selves to  this  extent  on  my  account,''  was  the  remark 
first  on  his  lips ;  but  at  that  very  moment  some  glim- 
mering perception  of  their  reasons  —  or  of  young 
Amzi's  reasons,  at  least  —  entered  Mr.  Cook's  mind. 
Not  for  naught  had  he  been  writing  novels  for  ten 
years,  and  studying  his  fellow-man  for  an  even  longer 
time.  But  it  was  neither  of  the  Amzis,  father  or  son, 
who  disquieted  the  eminent  man  of  letters ;  it  was  his 
niece  Eleanor. 

However,  the  next  day  when  at  the  torrid  hour  of 
mid-afternoon  he  had  named  —  in  fact,  twenty  min- 
utes in  advance  of  it  —  young  Mr.  Loring  and  the 
shutf  and  another  automobile,  a  light  grey  one  this 
time  of  equal  size  but  still  more  magnificent  appoint- 
ments, drew  up  before  the  house,  Miss  Maranda  was 
not  only  unprepared,  but  kept  the  equipage  waiting 
until  long  past  the  time  agreed  on  in  the  coolest  and 
most  approved  style.  Cook,  on  his  way  downstairs, 
glanced  into  the  shaded  room  where  his  sister-in-law, 
in  a  white  lawn  neglige,  effervescing  with  ruffles,  lace 
edges  and  knots  of  lavender  ribbon,  was  disposed  on 
the  chaise  longue ;  in  a  chair  near  by  Fannie  bent  over 
more  sheer  white  stuff,  laces  and  ribbons  mounded  in 
her  lap.  Since  luncheon,  they  had  occupied  these 
positions,  a  gentle  monotone  of  instruction,  advice^ 
critical  comment  flowing  from  the  older  lady. 


70  THE  KUDDER 

"  Better  change  your  mind  and  come  along  with  us, 
Fannie,"  said  Cook,  halting  at  the  threshold. 

^'  Oh,  she  hasn't  got  time  to  get  dressed  now,"  Mrs. 
Maranda  called  out.  "  I  don't  think  it  would  be  wise 
for  Fannie  to  go  out  in  this  heat  anyhow,  I'm  glad 
she  decided  not  to.  It's  not  very  safe  for  stout  peo- 
ple to  go  out  in  the  sun.  I'd  have  been  worried  to 
death  if  Fannie  had  gone." 

Cook  stepped  inside  the  room.  "  I  should  think 
you'd  be  tired,"  he  said,  standing  over  the  girl's  chair. 
"What's  that  you're  doing?  Ripping  something? 
You  can't  see  in  this  light,  Fannie,  you'll  put  your 
eyes  out."  He  made  a  motion  to  raise  the  curtain,  but 
Mrs.  Maranda  arrested  him  with  a  high  sound  of 
protest. 

''Don't!  Don't  let  that  blaze  of  sunlight  in  here, 
Marshall !  You've  forgotten  that  window  faces  west. 
We'd  be  broiled  to  a  crisp.  All  Fannie  needs  is  a 
little  light  on  her  hands,  barely  enough  to  see  to  cut 
the  threads.  Men  are  the  funniest  things  when  they 
undertake  to  tell  women  how  to  work !  "  she  remarked 
in  accents  of  humorous  vexation.  "  You  aren't  tired, 
are  you,  Fannie?  " 

'^3Ief  No,  indeed!"  said  Fannie,  with  cheerful 
emphasis.  She  straightened  up,  drawing  a  breath  of 
relief,  pushing  her  rumpled  fair  hair  from  off  her  fore- 
head with  the  back  of  her  hand.  In  the  semi-dark  her 
face  looked  pale  above  her  limp,  stringy,  white  blouse. 
"  I  wish  I  hadn't  sewed  this  quite  so  carefully,  that's 
all !  "  she  said,  ruefully  smiling.  "  It  makes  it  just 
that  much  harder  to  take  apart." 

"Why  take  it  apart,  then?"  her  uncle  wanted  to 
know.  He  lifted  up  a  section  of  the  garment  warily. 
It  seemed  to  him  an  arabesque  of  strips  of  lace  and 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  71 

embroidery;  there  were  numberless  small  hooks  and 
eyes,  and  groups  of  tiny  tucks  crossed  and  re-crossed 
one  another  in  complex  reticulations.  "  It  looks  very 
gorgeous  to  me.'' 

"  Well,  it  turaed  out  not  quite  what  Aunt  Juliet 
wanted.     She  thought  of  something  else — " 

"  Oh,  it's  given  us  no  end  of  trouble,"  Mrs.  Maranda 
explained.  '^  Fannie's  had  to  rip  it  all  up,  every 
stitch,  twice  before  this.  It  simply  irouJdn't  fit  com- 
fortably. Finally  the  other  day,  I  thought  out  a  way 
to  get  it  right  at  last,  so  we  went  at  it  again,  tooth  and 
nail.  We've  got  it  now,  I'm  sure.  The  third  time's 
the  charm,  you  know." 

"  I  see.  It  must  be  nice  to  work  for  you,  Juliet, 
you  always  seem  to  have  so  many  ideas  about  how 
to  do  things,"  said  Cook. 

Fannie  spoke  quickly.  "  It's  not  like  icorh,  you 
know.  Uncle  Marshall.     It's  just  sewing." 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  se^dng  does  look  like  work  to  a 
man,'^  said  Mrs.  Maranda  with  an  indulgent  laugh. 
"  I'm  just  like  you,  though.  Fan,  I  never  thought  of 
sewing  as  icork^  when  I  had  my  health.  I  don't  think 
Fan's  as  good  at  it  as  I  used  to  be,  but  she  does  well 
enough.     I'd  never  find  fault  with  Fannie's  sewing." 

"  You  never  find  fault  anyhow.  You  just  suggest 
improvements,  eh?  "  said  Marshall,  suavely. 

"  Come  on,  now,  Fannie,"  he  urged  the  girl  again. 
"  Drop  that  and  come  with  us.'' 

*^  I  cciivty  Uncle  Marshall.  You  go  on  yourself,  and 
don't  mind  me,"  Fannie  said,  ripping  steadily. 

"  Good  gracious,  Marshall,  don't  nag  the  poor  child 
so  I  You  mean  it  kindlv,  but  it  gets  to  be  verv  wear- 
ing,"  Mrs.  Juliet  mildly  admonished  him. 

Cook  obeyed,  philosophically  repeating  his  formula 


72  THE  EUDDER 

in  private :  "  Same  old  thing !  "  and  wondering  for 
what  was  probably  the  thousandth  time  whether  after 
all  it  did  not  argue  a  certain  pettiness  of  spirit  in  him- 
self to  be  so  irritated  by  things  so  petty.  Nellie 
joined  him  in  crisp  w^hite  skirts,  white  shoes,  a  white 
hat  pinned  at  what  he  guessed  to  be  the  angle  of  ex- 
treme smartness  on  her  dead  black  hair  and  anchored 
down  by  a  white  veil.  Cook  thought  that  he  had 
never  seen  anything  more  enticing  than  the  fashion 
in  which  this  veil  with  its  dots  drew  up  snugly  under 
the  girl's  chin,  the  slack  of  it  twisted  with  skill  into  a 
little  tight  peak ;  it  was  neat,  captivating,  irresistible. 
He  was  sure  no  other  woman  could  put  on  a  veil  in 
exactly  that  way;  yet  like  all  the  small  adjustments 
of  Nellie's  toilette,  it  was  visibly  uncalculated.  That 
w^as  one  of  her  strongest  points,  he  reflected,  that  take- 
it-or-leave-it  integrity  of  good  looks,  that  effortless 
and  unconscious  distinction.  Having  awaited  the 
moment  of  Miss  Maranda's  farewells  to  her  household 
with  some  misgivings,  he  was  more  or  less  surprised 
but  fervently  thankful  when  nothing  untoward  hap- 
pened. Instead,  Nellie  came  away  with  an  ordinary 
word  or  two,  in  a  kind  of  happy  preoccupation. 

"  Good-bye !  I  suppose  w^e'll  be  back  about  six  or 
half-past,"  she  called  out,  smiled  absently  at  her  uncle 
and  walked  out  of  the  house  and  down  the  steps,  but- 
toning her  gloves,  with  her  eyes,  which  somehow 
seemed  bigger  and  brighter  to-day  than  usual,  fixed 
on  the  automobile  —  or  the  young  man  by  it  —  at  the 
gate. 

Mr.  Loring  was  slouching  negligently  against  the 
side  of  the  car,  hands  in  pockets,  smoking  one  of  his 
fearsome  cigars,  with  his  hat  tilted  forward  to  ward 
off  the  white  hot  sun ;  and  at  their  approach  he  did  not 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  73 

alter  this  attitude,  merely  remarking  gruffly :  "  Hello ; 
you're  late !  " 

"  Really? ''  said  Nellie,  meeting  his  scowl  with  a 
piquant  bravado. 

He  mimicked  her.  "  Yeah !  ^  Really  ' !  Say,  you 
may  as  well  know  it  right  now,  when  I  say  a  quarter 
to  four  to-day,  I  mean  a  quarter  to  four  to-day.  I 
don't  mean  to-morrow  morning  at  half -past  ten." 

Cook  decided  that  this  must  be  intended  humor- 
ously ;  it  must  embody  Amzi  Two's  ideas  of  the  feath- 
ery jocularities  suited  to  the  comprehension  of  the 
opposite  sex  — ''  But  he  had  better  look  out  how  he 
adopts  that  bullying  tone  wdth  Eleanor,  even  in  fun," 
thought  her  uncle.  Lo  and  behold,  Eleanor  took  it 
meekly  as  a  lamb  I 

"  Oh,  I  —  I  didn't  know  that  it  made  any  difference. 
I  didn't  suppose  we  had  to  be  so  deadly  punctual  as 
all  that,''  she  said,  laughing  deprecatingly,  fingering 
the  little  twist  of  her  veil,  lifting  to  him  eyes  full  of 
disarming  appeal.  Without  a  hint  of  coquetry,  such 
a  look  would  have  reduced  the  average  young  man  to  a 
jelly-like  state  of  acquiescence,  of  admiring  submis- 
sion; as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  did  obviously  so  reduce 
the  chauffeur  who  caught  it  on  the  wing,  so  to  speak, 
and  stared  and  coloured  foolishly.  The  chauffeur, 
by  the  way,  had  taken  off  his  hat  before  her  and  stood 
up  straight,  and  altogether  looked  and  acted  ten  times 
more  like  a  gentleman  than  his  master,  to  Cook's  mind. 
Young  Mr.  Loring,  for  his  part,  remained  unmoved, 
to  all  outward  seeming,  at  least ;  to  tell  the  truth,  his 
countenance  was  scarcely  qualified  to  exhibit  any  emo- 
tion readily  or  vividly. 

"Didn't  know,  huh?"  he  inquired.  He  looked 
away  from  her  deliberately  —  but  not  without  effort, 


74  THE  EUDDER 

Cook  judged  —  then  back.  "  Don't  jou  try  any  girly- 
girly  business  like  that.  You're  too  smart  for  it  any- 
how." And  now  his  eyes  finally  came  to  rest  on  her 
with  an  expression  that  caused  Cook  hastily  to  avert 
Ms  own.  Such  a  jumble  of  inconsistencies  is  the  na- 
ture of  man  that  the  writer  of  Silvio  and  the  Fair 
Venetian,  besides  being  himself  a  person  of  good 
moral  character,  was  strongly  of  the  opinion  that 
w^hat  he  called  with  a  commendable  vagueness  "  all 
that  sort  of  thing  "  ought  to  be  confined  strictly  to  fic- 
tion; confronted  with  it  in  real  life,  it  made  him 
ashamed.  Nellie  did  not  seem  offended,  her  uncle  no- 
ticed ;  but  girls  either  do  not  understand  "  that  sort 
of  thing,"  or  think  they  must  pretend  not  to  under- 
stand it,  he  reasoned  inwardly. 

He  became  aware  that  their  host  was  addressins: 
him.  ^' Any  time  to-day!  Just  say  u-Jien!  It's  not 
more  than  hot  enough  to  fry  an  egg  right  where  you're 
standing,  but  don't  hurry  yourself !  "  young  Amzi  ob- 
served in  that  vein  of  dainty  irony  which  he  had  at 
command.  He  was  already  established  at  the  steer- 
ing-wheel, with  Nellie  beside  him ;  she  smiled  over  his 
shoulder  at  her  uncle  with  an  odd  sort  of  apologetic 
gaiety.  The  chauffeur  stood  at  attention  in  a  killingly 
stylish  pose,  one  eye  on  the  young  lady ;  Cook  got  in, 
and  they  sped  with  giddy  smoothness  up  the  street. 


CHAPTER  V 

ALL  being  fish  that  comes  anywhere  near  the 
nets  of  Mr.  Cook's  profession,  he  would  not  or- 
dinarily have  let  slip  the  chance  to  get  ac- 
quainted with  Garry  and  Garry's  world  afforded  him 
by  this  ride,  throughout  which  he  and  the  chauffeur, 
sitting  together  in  the  back  of  the  automobile,  were 
left  to  their  own  entertainment,  and  might  have  ex- 
changed all  sorts  of  confidences  w^ithout  interruption 
or  fear  of  being  overheard  by  the  other  half  of  the 
party.  But  his  friendly  purveyors  of  "material" 
would  have  been  concerned  to  know  that,  for  once, 
the  novelist  neglected  that  which  was  fairly  under 
his  hand.  He  scarcely  spoke  to  Garry  and  made  no 
attempt  to  draw  the  young  man  out ;  furthermore,  he 
paid  only  scant  attention  to  the  landscape,  the  streets 
and  houses  and  public  squares,  parks,  monuments 
which  indeed  whizzed  past  at  a  gait  unfavourable  to 
careful  examination.  Perhaps  he  noticed  that  there 
had  been  few  revolutionary  alterations  since  his  day ; 
at  any  rate,  they  manifestly  did  not  interest  him. 
He  sat  dumbly  surveying  the  two  pairs  of  shoulders 
in  front  of  him,  these  slim  and  elegantly  turned,  those 
hulking  like  a  prize-fighter's,  with  mounting  perplex- 
ity, distaste  and  reluctant  apprehension. 

".  .  .  In  short,  I  was  —  and  still  am,  for  that  mat- 
ter—  a  prey  to  the  gloomiest  forebodings,"  Cook 
later  wrote  to  one  of  his  intimates.  "  The  phrase  is 
not  new,  it's  barely  possible  you  have  seen  it  before; 

75 


76  THE  EUDDER 

but  it's  beautiful  language,  and  describes  my  state 
of  mind  to  a  T.  Nothing  new  either,  or  necessarily 
alarming,  about  two  young  people  falling  in  love  with 
each  other  —  but  if  you  could  behold  these  together ! 
It's  incredible  and  true!  You  know  my  niece,  and 
though  it  is  hardly  likely  that  you  have  met  the 
young  man,  you  may  have  seen  him,  as  they  tell  me 
he  is  now  a  neighbour  of  yours  in  the  old  Henderson 
place.  He  is  physically  of  an  architecture  not  easily 
overlooked  —  somewhere  between  Siegfried  and  John 
L.  Sullivan.  I  judge  his  intelligence  finds  itself  in 
very  roomy  quarters;  in  fact,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if 
it  knocked  about  quite  loose.  .  .  .  That  this  great 
oaf  should  be  in  love  with  Nellie  is  not  surprising  — 
wouldn't  be  a  matter  of  any  consequence,  really,  but 
for  the  stupefying  fact  that,  unless  all  signs  fail,  Nel- 
lie is  in  love  with  him!  I  repeat  if  you  could  see 
them  together,  you  would  understand  how  the  thing 
can  be  at  the  same  time  incredible  and  true.  It  made 
me  think  of  Bottom  and  Titania.  Girls  are  such 
strange  creatures  —  women  are  such  strange  crea- 
tures —  I  hope  you  don't  mind  my  saying  that  most 
of  you  seem  to  have  the  most  astounding,  sometimes 
appalling  ideals  —  from  a  man's  point  of  view  —  of 
masculine  good  looks,  and  sense  and  behaviour.  No 
doubt  Eleanor  thinks  young  Loring  gloriously  big 
and  manly,  gloriously  capable  of  knocking  her  down 
and  beating  her  and  tying  her  to  the  bedpost !  Well, 
perhaps  that  sort  of  treatment  would  make  her 
happy;  I  feel  sure  that  she  would  presently  despise 
any  civil,  decent  fellow  who  was  her  obedient  and 
adoring  slave.  She  wants  a  tyrant  —  or  thinks  she 
does.  .  .  . 

"  I  am  boring  you  to  death  about  my  niece.     The 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  77 

trutli  is,  I  am  fond  of  lier.  .  .  .  One  thing  is  impor- 
tant: do  not  suppose  for  a  minute  that  Eleanor  would 
take  him  for  the  sake  of  the  establishment,  and  trips 
to  Euroi^e  and  Paris  millinery  and  limousines  and  all 
that.  She  is  not  that  kind;  she  could  have  set  her- 
self up  long  ago  after  that  manner,  had  she  chosen, 
but  I  want  you  to  believe  that  Nellie  is  too  fine,  too 
high  for  any  such  squalid  bargain.  There  has  al- 
ways been  to  me  something  splendid  and  flaming 
about  her  spirit  —  like  a  new  sword.  .  .  .  You  will 
think  me  a  perfect  mush  of  paternal  sentiment,  or 
else  you  will  accuse  me,  as  you  have  before,  of  writ- 
ing letters  to  you  by  way  of  literary  exercise.  .  .  ." 

And  so  forth  and  so  on.  So  strong  is  habit,  it  may 
be  Cook  did  half  consciously  turn  and  shape  some  of 
the  above  sentences  while  he  sat  watching ;  and  listen- 
ing—  for  shameful  to  admit,  he  did  listen  —  when 
scraps  of  the  young  people's  talk  floated  back. 

"  You  know  you  just  wanted  to  keep  me  sticking 
around  waiting  for  you,  to  see  how  I'd  stand  it,"  he 
heard  young  Amzi  say  acutely;  "you  were  kind  of 
trying  me  out,  now  weren't  you?  " 

Nellie  gave  him  a  glance  cool  and  flashing  as  the 
rapier  to  which  her  uncle  likened  her  in  his  thought. 
The  little  man  saw  it  with  a  kind  of  tentative  relief; 
it  was  more  natural,  more  like  Nellie,  than  that  other 
dove-eyed  business,  he  told  himself.  "  No,  I  knew  how 
you'd  act,"  she  said ;  "  you'd  act  like  a  big  man  out  of 
patience."  Her  shrug  conveyed  both  decision  and  in- 
difference. "  Couldn't  be  helped.  I  simply  have  to 
take  my  time  dressing;  I  always  want  to  look  per- 
fectly all  right  when  I  go  out  ^i.th  a  man  — " 

"Do,  huh?" 

"  Yes.     My    uncle    isn't    painfully    particular    or 


78  THE  RUDDER 

Miss-Nan cy-isli,  you  know,  but  he  knows  when  peo- 
ple look  right,  just  the  same." 

"Oh,  Jiim!  I  —  I  thought  you  meant  me/'  The 
car  lurched;  Mr.  Loring  must  have  given  the  wheel 
a  twitch  inadvertently. 

"Oh,  you,  too,  of  course,"  said  Miss  Maranda  in 
matter-of-fact  tones  —  too  carefully  matter-of-fact, 
the  alert  student  of  life  and  manners  behind  her 
thought,  stretching  his  ears  for  every  slightest  varia- 
tion from  her  normal  key.  "  But  my  uncle  is  very 
observant  —  much  more  so  than  most  men.  He  sees 
everything  —  little  things  and  all." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  that's  his  job,"  said  Amzi  tol- 
erantly. "  Seems  funny  for  a  man.  I've  never  read 
any  of  his  stories  —  I  can't  read  novels.  They're  all 
guff,  you  know.  I  always  fall  asleep.  But  I  know 
he's  bright  all  right.  I  can  tell  by  the  way  he  talks 
—  not  that  talk  he  gave  us  at  commencement  —  I 
can't  listen  to  that  guff  —  I  mean  the  way  he  talks 
when  he's  just  talking.  He's  got  a  kind  of  way  of 
saying  things  that's  exactly  like  Billy  Evans  —  you 
know  that  show  that  was  here  last  winter,  His 
Royal  NihSy  don't  you  remember?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  I  saw  that." 

"You  ought  to  have.  It  was  great.  Evans  was 
their  funny  man,  you  know.  He's  a  little  fellow, 
too,  rather  on  the  same  order  as  your  uncle ;  they  say 
he's  one  of  the  best  comedians  on  the  stage  to-day. 
And  you  know  it's  just  like  your  uncle;  the  things  he 
says  aren't  so  funny,  it's  just  his  way  of  saying  them. 
Every  time  he  opens  his  mouth  he  gets  a  laugh !  But 
it  was  a  good  show  anyhow.  I  like  a  good  musical 
show,  don't  you?  " 

"  Yes,  ever  so  much." 


THE  EETURX  OF  THE  NATIVE  79 


&• 


^'  I  take  iu  every  one  of  them  that  comes  along 
Pass  up  most  of  the  others,  you  know  —  they're  too 
slow  for  me.  Shakespeare's  pretty  good  sometimes, 
only  it's  not  true  to  life.  Xobody  ever  talked  in  po- 
etry; that's  what  makes  me  tired.  And  then  I  can't 
stand  the  kind  where  they  don't  do  a  thins^  hut  sit 
around  and  hold  a  talk-fest.  I  mean  like  this  fel- 
low's plays  —  what's  his  name — ?" 

"  Shaw^?  " 

"  Yeah.     Xo !     Some  Dutch-sounding  name  — " 

"Maeterlinck?" 

"  Yeah,  I  guess  that's  it  —  that's  near  enough,  any- 
how. They're  all  alike.  I  can't  stand  any  of  'em. 
I  want  something  with  some  go  to  it  —  something 
bright  and  snappy  and  up  to  date.  I  bet  you  do  too, 
don't  you?  " 

"  Well,  I  —  I  like  the  other  kind,  too,"  Xellie  sub- 
mitted, with  a  return  of  her  deprecatory  air.  And 
as  Loring  slowed  do^Ti  at  the  moment,  tooling 
around  a  curve  that  needed  all  his  attention,  the  girl 
sent  a  swift,  questioning  look  rearward.  "  Uncle 
Marsh,  are  your  ears  burning?  Vre've  been  talking 
about  you?  " 

"  Have  you?  I'll  listen  harder  after  this,''  re- 
torted Cook.  He  read  an  expression  half  defiant, 
half  wistful  on  her  face  that  moved  him,  sympathet- 
ically. "  Poor  child,  how  afraid  she  is  that  I'll  make 
fun  of  him  I  "  was  his  first  inward  comment;  his  next 
in  renewed  irritation :  "  But  what  possessed  her  to 
let  herself  fall  in  love  with  him?  It  cant  last  —  it's 
too  impossible  I "  Aloud  he  inquired  casually : 
^-  ^Tiere  are  we  now?     I've  lost  my  bearings." 

It  seemed  to  be  a  new  suburb  of  little,  box-like 
houses  built  in  rows  among  wide,  unkempt  stretches 


80  THE  RUDDER 

of  open  ground  that  must  have  been  pastures  but  re- 
cently. There  were  tall  new  electric-light  poles,  dis- 
connected lengths  of  new  sidewalks  and  new  curbing, 
new  sewers  suddenly  nosing  out  of  banks  of  raw 
earth;  the  way  they  were  following  was  a  declassed 
thing,  neither  road  nor  street,  all  ruts,  ridges,  tem- 
porary culverts,  surveyors'  stakes,  hummocks  of  sand, 
gravel  and  paving-stones,  around  and  between  which 
young  Loring  jockeyed  the  big  car  with  a  satisfying 
adroitness.  "  Why,  it's  Elmwood  Avenue  —  tell  him 
Elmwood  Avenue,''  he  said  shortly  and  sidewise  to 
Nellie,  who  herself  had  not  recognised  the  locality. 
And  in  a  minute  or  two,  having  arrived  at  a  stretch 
of  comparatively  smooth  going,  he  relaxed  enough  — 
though  still  with  a  vigilant  eye  ahead,  and  still  speak- 
ing from  the  corner  of  his  mouth  —  to  add :  "  It's 
all  new  around  here,  but  the  city's  growing  like  every- 
thing out  this  way,  towards  Elmwood,  on  account  of 
the  factories  out  here,  you  know.  Eberlein  Chair 
Company  —  Utopia  White  Lead  —  Ohio  Valley  Roll- 
ing Mills  —  they're  all  out  at  Elmwood,  and  a  whole 
lot  more,  besides  ourselves."  He  jerked  a  facetious 
gesture  towards  the  cramped  little  cottages,  before 
apiilying  his  whole  mind  to  the  wheel  again.  "  It's 
not  exactly  a  kid-glove  neighbourhood,  but  it's  all 
right  —  respectable  people  —  they  naturally  settle 
around  where  their  work  is.  Hello!  I  guess  we'll 
have  to  wait  till  that  gets  by." 

He  manoeuvred  the  automobile  into  position  at  the 
side  of  the  road,  pending  the  advance  of  a  steam- 
roller that  now  hove  in  sight  clamorously;  behind  it 
they  could  see  the  narrow  way  a  very  ant-hill  for  ac- 
tivity, picks,  dump-carts,  mules  and  men  in  ceaseless 
motion,  and  near  at  hand  the  labourers'  coats  and. 


THE  EETURN  OF  TUE  NATIVE  81 

dinner-pails  were  banked  against  a  sort  of  mammoth 
portable  Noali's-Ark  wherein  they  stored  their  tools, 
Cook  supposed;  ^^  Shamrock  Construction  Company, 
No.  4,"  he  read  stencilled  on  its  slanting  lids.     Young 
Loring  leaned  back,  and  tapped  him  on  the  knee. 
''  Say,  maybe  my  old  Dad  didn't  have  the  long  head!  " 
he  said  —  or  rather  shouted,  elevating  his  voice  above 
the  uproar  of  the  oncoming  steam-roller.    He  screwed 
up  one  eye,  and  nodded  at  Cook,  shrewdly  complacent. 
"  Maybe  the  old  man  wasn't  Johnny -on-the-spot !     He 
came  out  here  ten  years  ahead  of  everybody  else,  and 
started  an  ice-plant  —  the  one  he's  going  to  show  you 
this  afternoon,  you  knoAv;  it's  right  out  here  at  the 
end  of  this  street  — he  had  it  all  figured  out  how  this 
part  of  town  was  going  to  grow,  and  beat  'em  all  to 
it.     Bet  you  his  whole  outfit,  gTOund,  railroad-switch, 
buildings,  stables  and  all  —  bet  you  the  whole  outfit 
didn't  cost  him  the  fifth  of  what  these  other  fellows 
are  giving  for  the  land  alone  now ! ''     Amzi  Two  drew 
back  to  observe  the  effect  of  his  statement  in  trium- 
phant expectation. 

"  Enterprising  man,  your  father  I  "  bellowed  Cook. 
"Hey?  Yeah,  he's  enterprising  all  right.  Why, 
what  d'ye  think?  "  said  the  son,  leaning  over  again, 
and  again  tapping  the  other's  knee  by  way  of  empha- 
sis ;  "  they  were  going  to  soak  him  a  big  assessment 
for  this  road  improvement,  the  city  was,  you  know  — 
there  was  graft  in  it  for  somebody,  of  course  — but 
Dad  headed  'em  off.  He  just  went  around  and  got 
some  of  the  other  property  owners  interested  so 
they'd  go  in  with  him,  and  then  went  to  the  authori- 
ties and  says,  '  Here,  gentlemen,  we'll  take  hold  and 
do  this  thing  ourselves,  and  maintain  it  ourselves  ac- 
cording to  the  regulations  or  requirements  or  what- 


82  THE  RUDDER 

ever  they  are,  laid  down  in  the  charter,  and  it  don't 
need  to  cost  the  city  a  cent,  all  the  same  as  if  it  was 
a  private  road  in  somebody's  grounds.'  That  was 
pretty  straight  talk,  you  know,  and  it  was  all  in  the 
papers  —  Father  took  care  of  that  —  and  the  council- 
men,  this  John  Dal  ton  and  the  rest  of  these  ward  heel- 
ers that  were  looking  for  their  rake-off,  why,  you  see 
it  kind  of  put  'em  in  a  hole.  Anyway,  I  expect  every 
now  and  then  they  know  they've  got  to  do  something 
to  try  and  keep  solid  Avith  the  respectable  element  — " 
The  steam-roller  was  abreast  of  them  by  this  time, 
and  Mr.  Loring's  lungs,  adequate  as  they  were  to  most 
occasions,  came  off  second-best  in  that  competition. 
He  finished  the  tale.  Cook  judged  by  the  movements 
of  his  face,  but  all  that  the  latter  caught  of  it  was  a 
fragment  here  and  there,  indicating  that  Loring  sen- 
ior had  carried  his  point  and  personally  hired  the 
contractor,  and  that  the  completed  job  was  going  to 
cost  him  and  his  associates  some  thousands  less  than 
"  the  city  figures,"  and  moreover  that  they  were  "  get- 
ting value  for  every  dollar  they  put  in." 

"  Yes,  it  takes  enterprise  to  think  of  and  manage 
schemes  like  that,"  said  Cook,  as  the  clatter  subsided, 
and  they  resumed  the  road ;  the  next  instant  he  him- 
self leaned  eagerly  to  touch  his  niece's  shoulder. 
"  Nellie,  I  want  you  to  look  —  not  right  now,  he  might 
see  you  —  wait  a  minute  and  then  look.  That  big 
man  standing  on  the  embankment  to  your  right,  talk- 
ing to  two  of  the  workmen  —  he  looks  just  like  them, 
only  he  has  his  coat  on  —  that's  that  fine  old  Irish- 
man I  met  yesterday  —  the  interesting  old  fellow  I 
was  telling  you  about,  remember?  " 

"  That's  Devitt,"  said  young  Loring,  turning  to 
look  in  the  direction,  unmindful  of  Cook's  warning. 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  83 

"  Mike  Devitt.  He  runs  the  Shamrock  Construction 
Company  —  owns  it  and  runs  it.  He's  the  one  jou 
know  I  told  you  Father  made  the  deal  with  for  the 
road.  Did  you  say  you  knew  him?''  His  face  ex- 
jjressed  his  incredulous  surprise,  replaced,  however, 
almost  at  once  by  a  not  very  pleasing  amusement. 
"•  Oh,  yes,  I  remember !  Little  Chauncey,  the  Pride 
of  the  Precinct  —  that's  his  pop.  Well,  well,  to  be 
sure ! " 

Nellie,  after  an  incurious  glance,  remarked  rather 
doubtfully  that  of  course  Mr.  Devitt  must  be  out  of 
the  ordinary  —  he  was  a  rather  rough-looking  man,, 
wasn't  he,  to  be  at  the  head  of  any  important  work  — 
it  seemed  queer. 

"  Well,  he  can't  go  around  on  ditches  and  stone- 
piles  dressed  for  a  pink  tea,"  said  Amzi,  juggling  the 
wheel  expertly.  "  But  anyhow  old  Mike's  a  regular 
flannel-mouth;  Irish  as  they  make  'em.  It's  not  so 
very  long,  you  know,  since  he  was  getting  up  at  five 
o'clock  when  the  whistle  blew  and  starting  off  with 
his  shovel  and  dinner-can  and  one  of  these  little  short 
black  pipes  they  all  smoke,  just  like  the  others.  He 
wouldn't  mind  doing  it  now,  as  far  as  that  goes,  I 
guess.  Dad  says  he's  got  plenty  of  sense,  and  a 
square  man,  too.  I  suppose  Chauncey  dear  would 
faint  dead  away  if  he  thought  anybody  remembered 
papa  in  those  days." 

'^  I  gather,  Mr.  Loring,  that  you  think  very  highly 
of  Chauncey,"  said  Cook. 

They  were  moving  slowly  of  necessity,  but  young 
Loring  all  but  brought  the  car  to  a  standstill  while  he 
directed  a  puzzled  and  inquiring  scowl  uj^on  his  guest. 
^"Huh?"  said  he.  Then  his  face  began  to  clear;  he 
chuckled  deep  in  the  throat,  his  little  light  eyes  clos- 


84  THE  RUDDER 

ing  together  in  thorough  enjoyment.  "  The  way  you 
said  that  I  thought  for  a  minute  you  were  in  earnest. 
You  do  remind  me  an  awful  lot  of  Billy  Evans  —  I 
guess  you've  seen  him  in,  His  Royal  Nibs^  you  know 
where  he  comes  on  with  the  red  whiskers  and  the 
tomato-can  tied  on  over  one  ear,  and  the  first  thing 
he  does  is  to  hit  his  hand  against  the  stove?  It's  sup- 
posed to  be  red-hot,  of  course,  and  somebody  says  to 
him  that  fool  way  people  do :  ^  Oh,  did  you  hurt 
yourself?  '  and  he  says :  '  Oh,  no;  I  was  just  petting 
the  stove.'  You  said  that  just  like  him."  He  turned 
to  his  steering  once  more,  still  chuckling.  "  Why, 
you've  got  me  right,  Mr.  Cook;  I  just  love  Chaun- 
cey !  "  And,  being  obliged  at  this  point  to  halt  a  sec- 
ond time  while  two  or  three  loads  of  sand  deployed 
across  the  road,  he  screwed  around  to  say,  seriously 
now :  "  Say,  that  fellow's  phony,  that's  what  he  is, 
phony  all  the  way  through  —  phony  brains,  i)hony 
education,  phony  everything.  You  know  what  I 
mean,  don't  you?  I  mean  he's  all  front.  He'll  kind 
of  con  you  along  —  if  you  don't  know  him  —  into 
thinking  there's  something  to  him,  and  there  isn't! 
Not  a  thing!  He  couldn't  deliver  the  goods  to  save 
his  neck.  That  kind  makes  me  tired."  He  paused, 
eyeing  Cook  to  note  the  effect  of  this  lucid  exi^osition 
of  his  views. 

The  author  had  understood  enough  at  least  to  be 
roused  and  interested;  Amzi's  remarks,  all  unknown 
to  himself,  might  shed  a  light  on  both  young  men. 
"  Well,  you  know  him,  and  I  don't,"  Cook  said.  '^  He 
certainly  is  a  very  unusual  looking  fellow,  with  that 
poetic  head,  and  that  limp.     I  was  rather  impressed." 

"  All  front y  I  tell  you,"  repeated  the  other,  roughly. 
"  Limp  nothing !     He  didn't  have  to  limp  —  unless 


THE  EETUKN  OF  THE  NATIVE  85 

he  had  a  sore  corn  or  something.  There's  nothing 
the  matter  with  his  legs,  or  his  feet  either  —  anybody 
up  there  could  have  told  you  thai.  I'll  bet  you  any- 
thing he  read  up  in  some  book  about  some  celebrity 
that  was  lame,  so  he  thought  he'd  be  lame!  Limp 
nothing  I  " 

The  novelist  chuckled  in  his  turn.  ''  I  wish  I  had 
time  to  cultivate  T.  Chauncey ! ''  he  declared. 

"Do,  huh?  Well,  you'd  find  him  just  like  what 
I'm  telling  you.     That  kind  makes  me  tired." 

"  They  would  me,  too,"  said  Nellie  warmly. 

"Would,  huh?"  said  Amzi,  looking  down  on  her 
with  a  kind  of  caressing  mockery.  "  You  know  a  lot 
about  it,  don't  you?  " 

"  Oh,  of  course,  a  man  is  ever  so  much  better  able 
to  judge  people  than  any  woman  can  ever  be,  but  I 
know  I  wouldn't  like  anybody  that  was  such  a  goose. 
What  does  he  want  to  look  sick  for?  "  Miss  Maranda 
asked  disdainfully.  "It's  too  silly.  /  like  strong 
people.  Do  you  know  that's  what  your  name  means? 
It  means  strong/' 

"  It  does?     How  do  you  know?  " 

"  I  looked  it  up  in  the  Bible  —  in  the  Concordance, 
that  is.  Amzi's  a  Bible  name,  and  it  said  it  meant 
strong,"  said  Nellie,  not  meeting  his  eyes,  though 
speaking  in  an  impersonal  style  —  too  impersonal  by 
far,  her  uncle  said  to  himself  gi-imly.  The  young 
man  looked  at  her,  his  face  lit  by  an  ancient  fire. 
The  automobile  yawed  widely,  and  he  recalled  him- 
self. 

"Strong?  I  — I  guess  they  got  me  right,''  he 
stammered,  bending  his  mind  and  hands  to  their  task, 
one  would  have  guessed  by  main  force. 

They  crossed  some  railway  tracks,  and  a  step  far- 


8ij  THE  KUDDER 

ther  on,  the  road  which  hereabouts  was  nearing  com- 
pletion brought  up  in  a  weedy  and  dusty  little  vale, 
among  odds  and  ends  of  dilapidated  fencing  and 
plank  sidewalk,  and  clumps  of  haggard  vegetation, 
half-grown  ailanthus  trees,  and  wastes  of  wild  clover. 
All  the  senses  were  vividly  aware  of  sawdust  and  cin- 
ders and  fodder  and  machinery  and  horses.  In  the 
middle  of  the  landscape  there  appeared  a  big,  sprad- 
dling, temporary-looking  structure,  sheathed  in  cor- 
rugated iron  with  a  wooden  stoop  at  one  corner,  a 
13latform-scales  in  front  of  it,  a  smokestack  at  the  far 
end,  and  to  the  rear  a  gigantic  coop,  cage,  crib  —  the 
novelist  could  think  of  no  name  absolutely  describing 
it,  as  he  gazed,  many  feet  higher  than  the  building 
alongside,  miraculously  enclosing  a  mja^iad  cascades 
of  water.  It  dropped  from  tray  to  tray  in  straight 
and  ordered  sheets  ceaselessly,  supplying  an  accom- 
paniment to  every  sound  of  the  neighbourhood  Tvdth 
its  insistent  liquid  rustle,  defying  the  intelligence  by 
suggesting  a  cube  of  water  on  end,  braced  about 
lightly  with  wooden  frames.  Amzi  Two  being  occu- 
pied with  steering  a  course  to  the  i)latform,  Garry 
eagerly  enlightened  the  visitors. 

"  It's  where  they  cool  the  water  off  before  they  run 
it  inside  —  I  tJiinIc  that's  what  it's  for,  anyhow,"  he 
said.  "  That's  what  they  told  me.  I  come  out  here 
with  the  car  for  the  boss,  every  day." 

"City  water?" 

"  Sure.  But  it's  filtered  inside  somewhere.  It's 
an  elegant  modern  plant,  the  latest  things,  sanitary 
machinery  and  everything,"  Garry  assured  them  loy- 
ally.    "  All  of  Mr.  Loring's  are." 

Cook,  who  now  discovered  that  he  had  been  expect- 
ing white  tiles,  marble  tanks,  brass  pipes,  plate-glass 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  87 

—  something,  in  brief,  between  a  plumber's  show- 
room and  an  aquarium,  stared  at  the  corrugated  iron 
exterior  of  the  elegant  modern  plant  and  at  its  barn- 
yard-like environment  in  amused  curiosity.  The 
scarred  and  blistered  door  opening  on  the  stoop  bore 
a  sign  relating  that  here  was  the  Office ;  and  emerging 
from  it,  they  beheld  Amzi  senior,  stout  and  clean, 
wiping  his  ruddy  brow  and  the  inside  band  of  his 
straw  hat,  smiling  upon  them  with  all  the  strong  lines 
of  his  face  drawn  into  genial  welcome. 


CHAPTER  VI 

".  .  .  Mr.  Loring  the  elder  is  the  personification 
of  American,  self-made,  commercial  success  —  our 
favourite  slogan  *  Make  good '  put  into  flesh/'  wrote 
Cook  in  that  letter  of  which  we  have  already  had  a 
glimpse.  "  Mind  you,  I'm  not  saying  this  in  any 
spirit  of  condescension.  He  and  his  ice-factories  may 
be  uncomely  and  insesthetic  and  crassly  untilitarian, 
crassly  devoted  to  the  trade  of  money-getting,  but  by 
virtue  of  those  very  qualities,  they  are  our  most  char- 
acteristic national  i^roduct,  and  I,  for  one,  admire 
and  respect  them.  It's  a  big  thing  to  create  a  new 
type,  and  we've  done  it!  We  may  not  have  any  dis- 
tinctively American  art  or  science  —  nothing  that 
can  be  symbolised  anyway  —  but  we've  got  the  Amer- 
ican Business-Man  and  nothing  exists  or  ever  has  ex- 
isted just  like  him.  Most  of  our  writer  fellows  hold 
him  up  for  a  sordid,  selfish,  ruthless  grubber;  I  see 
him  as  true  a  pioneer  as  our  forefathers,  animated  by 
the  same  adventurous  idealism.  .  .  . 

"  We  went  into  the  Office  which,  before  seeing  the 
place,  I  had  been  foolish  enough  to  suppose  would  be 
on  the  order  of  the  directors'  room  at  a  bank  where  I 
was  once  suffered  to  penetrate.  This,  on  the  con- 
trary, was  a  box  about  ten  or  twelve  feet  square  with 
a  cannon-stove,  a  high  desk  and  a  high  stool,  a  low 
desk  and  a  swivel-chair,  a  calendar  and  a  cuspidor. 
There  was  a  rickety  flight  of  three  or  four  steps  in 

88 


THE  EETUr.X  OF  TUE  NATIVE  89 

one  corner  with  a  door  opening  at  the  top,  leading  off 
into  some  imgniessed  territory.  And  from  thence 
ever  and  anon  we  heard  a  high,  whining  whistle,  the 
clank  of  chains,  and  a  measured  crashing.  Mr.  Lo- 
ring  interpreted  these  Dante-esque  sounds  as  ^  the 
pneumatic  hoist  letting  go.'  And  seeing  my  interest 
which,  I  believe,  gratified  him  as  genuine  interest 
always  does  a  man  whose  own  heart  is  wholly  in  his 
w^ork,  he  added:  MVe're  strictly  a  business  propo- 
sition here,  Mr.  Schultze,  nothing  fancy,  or  the  kind 
you  people  that  write  care  about,  I  warn  you.  But  I 
thought  you  might  like  to  see  it,  just  for  curiosity.' 

"I  told  him  I  had  been  in  business  myself,  as  a 
book-keeper,  before  I  took  to  writing. 

"  '  Uh-huh,'  says  he,  eyeing  me  searchingly.  '  How 
did  you  happen  to  quit  ? ' 

"Upon  my  explaining  that  I  found  I  could  make 
more  at  the  other  trade,  and  liked  it  better,  he  nod- 
ded and  remarked  thoughtfully  —  and  most  truly  — 
that  it  was  all  a  gamble  with  most  young  fellows,  and 
they  were  lucky  when  they  found  out  what  they  could 
do  early,  and  stuck  to  it.  Perhaps  he  had  the  ordi- 
nary wage  of  a  bookkeeper  in  mind  and  wanted,  not 
unnaturally,  to  make  a  comparison,  for  he  next  asked 
in  a  perfectly  inoffensive  manner  as  one  business-man 
to  another,  how  much  it  cost  me,  on  the  average,  to 
get  out  a  book?  When  I  told  him  that  it  had  never 
cost  me  anything  as  the  publisher  attended  to  all 
that,  his  face  expressed  some  doubt  as  to  either  my 
sanity  or  the  publisher's,  I  don't  know  which,  but  he 
judiciously  dropped  the  subject.  His  own  book- 
keeper, to  whom  he  presently  introduced  us,  was  a 
weird  little  creature  with  a  great  many  beads  and 
frizzes,  and  a  preternaturally  small  waist,  and  high 


90  THE  EUDDER 

heels  and  high  colour  —  absolutely  respectable, 
though,  as  anybody  could  see  with  half  an  eye !  — 
whose  rating  was  ^  A.  Number  one/  he  said  heartily. 
Miss  Schlochtermaier  —  this  was  her  stupendous 
name  —  giggled  amongst  her  frizzes  and  said  with 
equal  heartiness  that  she  was  sure  she  didn't  know 
why  she  wouldn't  try  to  do  her  work  first-class,  when 
she  had  such  a  nice  boss  that  treated  everybody  so 
nice.  I  believe  that  both  of  them  were  in  earnest,  too, 
and  that  this  was  no  mere  passage  of  pretty  speeches 
for  effect.  It  developed  during  the  conversation  that 
Mr.  Loring  has  never  had  a  strike  among  his  hands 
in  the  whole  of  his  business  career,  or  indeed  any  kind 
of  trouble  with  them.  But  the  fact  is  he  doesn't  em- 
ploy very  many,  notwithstanding  the  magnitude  of 
his  ice-making  operations.  For  instance,  at  the  Elm- 
wood  ^  plant '  where  they  can  turn  out  upwards  of 
three  hundred  tons  a  dav —  or  mavbe  it  was  three 
thousand !  —  anyway,  some  unbelievable  amount  — 
there  are  only  seven  or  eight  hands  regularly  em- 
ployed, setting  aside  the  drivers,  stablemen,  etc. 
They  all  looked  like  very  decent  fellows,  and  nobody 
seemed  to  be  having  a  particularly  hard  job,  which 
may  account  in  part  for  the  evident  good  feeling  be- 
tween master  and  men.  .  .  . 

"...  I  might  without  impropriety,  I  suppose,  in 
view  of  his  own  inquiries,  have  asked  Mr.  Loring  how 
much  it  cost  him  to  get  out  a  ton  of  ice,  '  on  the  aver- 
age,' but  I  refrained.  The  man's  a  millionaire,  by 
just  and  legitimate  methods,  doubtless ;  and  doubtless 
too,  owing  to  his  own  integrity  and  industry  —  why 
not  let  it  go  at  that?  At  any  rate  by  this  time  I 
should  probably  have  forgotten  the  figures  or  got  them 
all  muddled  up  —  my  brain  reels  Avith  statistics.    Lo- 


THE  EETUKN  OF  THE  NATIVE  91 

ring  himself  turned  out  to  be  so  much  more  interesting 
than  the  thing  he  does  that  I  could  not  always  keep 
my  mind  on  his  highly  instructive  discourse.  I  kept 
wondering  what  he  was  like  when  he  was  a  young 
man  just  starting  out,  and  what  his  choice  of  a  wife 
had  been,  and  what  sort  of  a  romance  they  had  had, 
and  what  he  expected  of  his  son  and  whether  the 
young  gentleman  would  come  up  to  the  mark.  To 
tell  the  truth,  the  prospects  are  not  hopeful  that  way ; 
he  hasn't  half  his  father's  brains.  I  did  ask  the  elder 
man  what  his  son  was  going  to  do,  and  Amzi  senior 
said :  ^  Oh,  I  guess  likely  hell  go  in  with  me.  But 
a  young  man's  got  to  look  around  a  little  first,  you 
know.'  I  detected  a  furtive  uneasiness  in  his  man- 
ner, all  the  more  noticeable  because  so  foreign  to  him. 

".  .  .  They  get  the  ammonia  that  they  do  the  freez- 
ing with  in  the  form  of  an  incredibly  compressed  gas 
in  tanks  hermetically  sealed  up,  and  let  it  out  as 
they  want  it.  Each  tank  costs  tw^enty-five  dollars, 
and  if  they  have  good  luck  w^ith  them  they  last  two 
or  three  months,  for  they  can  condense  this  surprising 
stuff  and  use  it  over  again.  I  lost  some  important 
things  he  said  at  this  point  about  how  much  each 
tank  weighed,  and  how  many  times  it  could  be  used, 
and  the  danger  of  its  leaking  out  through  some  pin- 
hole and  volatilizing  on  its  own  hook  to  the  detri- 
ment of  everybody  in  the  vicinity  —  I  say  I  lost  most 
of  this  because,  while  maintaining  an  air  of  rapt 
attention,  I  was  really  contemplating  the  picture  he 
unwittingly  called  up  of  those  precious  tanks  of  am- 
monia in  a  cave  underground  or  in  rows  in  a  court- 
yard like  the  jars  of  oil  in  the  Forty  Thieves.  .  .  ." 

The  elder  Loring,  in  fact,  out  of  his  honest  pride 
in  his  w^ork,  had  prepared  a  little  sermon  on  the 


92  THE  RUDDER 

whole  duty  of  ice-making  and  the  processes  connected 
tlierewitli,  which  he  insisted  on  delivering  before  the 
inspection  of  the  factory  began.  And  that  over,  he 
led  his  not  entirely  enlightened  audience  up  the  flight 
of  steps  into  a  kind  of  monstrous  attic  whence  issued 
those  sounds  Mr.  Cook  has  described.  "  Now,  I'm 
not  going  to  tell  you  anything  right  now  about  what 
you  see  here,"  he  announced,  sweeping  a  gesture 
around  the  place ;  ^'  because  this  is  the  end.  Here's 
where  the  finished  product,  the  ice,  comes  ready  for 
shipment.  Final  stage.  First  I  want  to  show  you 
the  apparatus  we  use  for  running  off  the  ammonia  as 
I  was  telling  you,  at  intense  heat,  and  returning  it  at 
intense  cold,  you  recollect?  " 

Cook  tried  to  look  as  if  he  recollected.  And  while 
the  Ice-King  strode  on  to  a  door  opposite,  and  young 
Amzi  and  Nellie  murmured  together,  sauntering 
somewhere  in  the  rear,  he  gaped  around  at  the  great 
empty  loft.  As  the  depot  for  the  "  finished  i^roduct " 
it  seemed  as  if  it  ought  to  be  cold,  but  it  was  scarcely 
even  cool,  the  outside  air  and  sunshine  entering  freely 
through  a  number  of  barn-like  windows  in  either 
gable.  The  floor  was  paved  with  a  rough  mosaic  of 
what  looked  like  oblong  boxes  set  on  edge,  each  one 
having  a  counter-sunk  handle  in  the  side  exposed; 
they  were  moist  and  a  little  slippery.  Along  one 
side  there  ran  two  big  cast-iron  pipes,  one  of  them 
coated  either  with  a  thick  rime  of  frost  or  a  deposit 
of  salt,  the  novelist  was  not  sure  which ;  he  dimly  re- 
called some  mention  of  a  "  saline  solution."  Instead 
of  a  horde  of  overalled  or  half-naked  workmen,  such 
as  the  word  factory  brings  before  the  imagination, 
there  was  only  one  man  in  sight,  stationed  at  the 
other  end  of  the  garret,  too  far  away  for  Cook  to  see 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE     93 

what  he  was  doing.  Indeed,  at  the  moment,  he  was 
lounging  with  folded  arms,  not  doing  anything  at  all, 
though  with  a  casual  eye  turned  on  some  strands  of 
wire  cable  travelling  the  length  of  the  room  at  shoul- 
der-height. As  Cook  looked  on,  he  indifferently 
diverted  his  gaze  to  the  party,  and  must  have  ex- 
changed some  signal  with  his  principal,  for  the  latter 
called  out  with  an  arresting  movement  of  the  hand : 
*'  'S  all  right,  Tom,  I  don't  want  that  now.  When 
we  come  back'll  be  time  enough.     I'll  let  you  know 

Tom  nodded;  and  A^ith  these  cabalistic  words,  Mr. 
Loring  peremptorily  motioned  to  his  guests  to  fol- 
low. As  they  passed  through  the  door  and  began  the 
ascent  of  more  steps,  there  arose  behind  them  the 
same  banshee  screech  thev  had  heard  before,  accom- 
panied  by  the  same  reverberating  crash. 

"  Set  'em  up  in  the  other  alley !  "  said  young  Amzi 
facetiously. 

''  She  certainly  does  make  a  lot  of  noise  when  she 
lets  go,"  his  father  assented  with  an  appreciative 
grin. 

"  Is  that  what  you  were  telling  that  man  to  do? '' 
Cook  asked. 

"  That  man?  What  man?  Oh,  you  mean  Tom. 
No,  I  was  telling  him  about  something  else  I've  had 
fixed  up.  Thought  maybe  it  might  entertain  you  and 
the  voung  ladv.  You'll  see  it  as  we  come  back,''  said 
Amzi  senior ;  and  he  squinted  roguishly.  '^  Now, 
then,  Mr.  Crooks,  you  want  to  keep  your  eye  on  this 
set  of  pipes,  because  those  over  there  are  on  the  back- 
track —  I  mean  to  sav  that's  where  the  freezing- 
fluid  has  done  its  work,  and  it's  simply  being  cleaned 
and  returned.     You  want  to  follow  it  in  the  profjer 


94  THE  RUDDER 

—  er  —  rotation,  y'see.  Up  these  stairs  now  —  this 
business  ain't  like  most  businesses,  you  kind  of  be- 
gin at  the  top  instead  of  the  bottom  —  hey?  Ha-ha! 
Now  in  these  coils  at  this  side  —  look  out,  don't  touch 
'em !  —  is  where  the  cooling  process  commences  — " 
He  kept  on  talking,  pointing  out,  explaining,  Cook 
listening  accommodatingly,  if  without  any  very  clear 
comprehension.  The  young  people  had  by  this  time 
ceased  to  make  any  pretence  of  attention ;  they  trailed 
behind,  shamelessly  unheedful,  occupied  with  each 
other. 

The  exposition  drew  towards  a  close  on  the  ground- 
floor  in  the  engine-room,  which,  as  Mr.  Loring  dis- 
criminately  remarked,  was  too  much  like  any  other 
engine-room  to  demand  close  study;  and  it  was  here 
that  they  encountered  the  only  other  hands  besides 
Tom  to  be  seen  about  the  place,  namely,  an  engineer 
and  fireman,  neither  of  whom,  as  Cook  noticed,  was 
ai)parently  overburdened  with  work. 

'^  This  machinery  of  yours  is  nothing  short  of 
miraculous  to  a  person  like  me,  Mr.  Loring,"  he  said 
honestly ;  "  you  see  I  can't  take  in  all  of  your  explana- 
tions. It  looks  to  me  as  if  all  these  mechanical  de- 
vices attended  to  themselves  and  minded  their  own 
business,  going  ahead  and  making  ice  without  help  or 
management  from  anybody !  " 

"Well,  I  guess  there  hasn't  been  any  machine  in- 
vented yet  that  will  quite  do  that,"  said  the  other 
with  a  laugh;  "we've  got  all  the  latest  appliances, 
of  course.  I  believe  in  that,  you  bet!  There's  that 
automatic  stoker  now.  It's  the  best  on  the  market. 
I  ought  to  know,  for  I've  tried  out  a  dozen  of  'em. 
It  costs  money,  but  anything  that  saves  labour,  saves 
time,  saves  materials,  will  bring  you  out  ahead  in 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  95 

the  long  run.  If  anybody  gets  out  anything  better, 
why,  I'll  scrap  this  stoker  and  get  the  new  one. 
That's  my  principle.  I  don't  care  how  much  I  spend, 
I'm  going  to  have  the  best.  Talk  about  competition ! 
Competition's  never  worried  7ne  any.  All  you've  got 
to  do  is  to  see  that  your  product  is  better  than  any- 
body else's.     That'll  knock  competition  galley-west." 

Cook  regarded  the  best  automatic  stoker  on  the 
market  with  due  respect.  It  hitched  along  a  sort  of 
trolley,  pausing  at  intervals  with  uncanny  delibera- 
tion to  tilt  itself  and  discharge  a  ration  of  slack  coal 
into  a  reservoir  which  impulsively  opened  at  that 
precise  moment.  Loring  stood  by,  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets  and  chin  sunken  into  his  collar,  following 
its  movements  with  an  appraising  eye. 

"There!  That's  sheer  magic  to  me!"  ejaculated 
the  author.  "  It's  something  like  another  machine  I 
saw  recently  up  in  the  power-house  at  Niagara  —  a 
thing  that  got  up  and  oiled  a  certain  crank  or  cog 
every  now  and  then,  and  then  went  and  sat  doT\Ti 
again  till  the  next  time." 

Amzi  One  bestowed  on  him  a  rather  peculiar  side- 
glance.  ^^  Did,  hey?  "  said  he;  "  some  machine  that! 
This  one  has  to  have  a  man  feed  and  set  it.  I  guess 
I'll  have  to  get  some  of  your  story-books,  Mr. —  Er  — , 
I  guess  you're  quite  a  writer." 

"  Oh,  come  now,  Mr.  Loring,  you  know  I  didn't 
mean  that  description  to  be  taken  too  literally,"  re- 
torted the  little  man,  good-humoured  and  unabashed. 
They  both  began  to  laugh.  It  was  in  a  curious  good- 
fellowship —  curious,  considering  their  several  char- 
acters —  that  they  started  back  through  the  factory. 
We  have  seen  something  of  what  Mr.  Cook  thought  of 
his  companion;  what  the  latter  thought  of  Mr.  Cook 


96  THE  RUDDER 

lie  expressed  over  tlie  dinner-table  that  evening. 
"  That  little  Snooks,  or  whatever  his  name  is,  is  a 
smart  little  fellow,  son,"  said  he ;  ^'  he's  a  capable 
man !     I  know  a  capable  man  when  I  see  one.'' 

On  this  return  trip,  in  fact,  under  the  spell  of 
Cook's  talent  for  companionship,  the  elder  Loring  be- 
came quite  communicative.  He  touched  on  his  own 
life  history ;  how  he  had  been  born  and  raised  up  here 
in  Madison  County  on  a  farm  —  no,  not  a  poor  boy, 
his  folks  were  well  off  —  he  had  brothers  and  sisters 
living  up  there  on  the  home  place,  and  around  the 
neighbourhood  now,  and  they  all  lived  nice  and  had 
nice  farms.  He  just  didn't  want  to  stay  in  the  coun- 
try when  he  was  a  young  fellow.  Came  down  here 
just  after  the  Centennial,  when  he  was  about  twenty- 
one  years  old,  and  got  a  job  first  off  in  the  freight- 
office  of  the  B.  and  O.  road.  Then  after  two  years 
or  so  of  that,  he  went  with  the  Columbian  Express 
Company.  Both  these  places  kind  of  put  him  in 
touch  with  the  draying  and  hauling  business,  you  can 
see  how  they  would,  so  pretty  soon  he  went  into  it  for 
himself,  with  a  couple  of  wagons  and  teams,  and  a 
little  office  down  on  Third  Street  right  where  the 
commission-houses  were.  He  made  money  at  that. 
Then  along  come  this  big  opening  in  the  ice  industry 
when  they  got  to  making  it  by  machinery  along  about 
eighteen-seventy-nine,  and  he  saw  the  possibilities  in 
it,  and  jumped  right  in.  And  sure  enough  she  began 
to  boom,  and  she'd  boomed  ever  since  —  oh,  not  with- 
out his  getting  down  and  scratching  gravel,  you  bet ! 
You  can't  ever  get  something  for  nothing  —  hey, 
ain't  that  so?  People  got  the  idea  that  there  must  be 
easy  money  in  the  ice  business  because  water  was 
about  as  cheap  as  air,  and  all  you  had  to  do  was  freeze 


THE  EETUKN  OF  THE  NATIVE     97 

it ;  but  if  they'd  try  it  once,  they'd  find  out  there  was 
a  good  deal  more  to  it  besides  that. 

Cook  agreed  that  there  was  a  great  deal  more  to  it. 
"  Managing  the  men,  I  should  think,  would  be  of  it- 
self, no  slight  job.  Altogether  in  all  your  stables  and 
factories  there  must  be  an  army  of  them." 

"  Well,  no,  not  so  many  —  except  of  course  in  hot 
weather  like  this  when  we  have  to  have  a  day  and 
night  shift  on  the  engines,  and  more  pullers  and  more 
delivery-wagons  out."  He  gave  Cook  a  few  figures 
which,  as  has  been  seen,  the  novelist  afterwards 
quoted.  "  But  the  men  aren't  the  problem  —  not 
especially.  Got  to  have  'em  tolerably  steady  and 
sober,  that's  all.  I  never  have  any  trouble  with  the 
men.  They  haven't  got  any  union,  for  one  thing  — 
not  that  that  would  make  any  difference  to  me,^^  said 
the  Ice-King  a  little  truculently.  He  jingled  a  fistful 
of  coins  in  either  pocket.  "  I  can  beat  any  union 
hands  down.  Come  to  think  of  it,  the  engineers  are 
unionised  —  I'd  forgotten  about  'em,  that  shows  how 
much  I  think  of  the  unions !  "  he  said  T\^th  a  grunt  of 
amusement.  "  I  always  say  to  those  fellows  when 
they  come  to  me  for  a  job  —  I  deal  with  every  one  of 
'em  direct,  you  know;  I  don't  want  any  superin- 
tendents or  Jack-in-offices  mixing  in  —  I  always  say 
to  'em :  ^  Look  here,  my  place  is  open  to  everybody. 
I  don't  care  whether  you're  in  the  union  or  out  of  it. 
I  know  how  to  treat  a  man  square  without  any  union 
holding  a  club  over  me,  or  him  either.  If  I  didn't 
know  how  to  act  square,  I  wouldn't  be  where  I  am 
to-day.  Xow — '  I  says  to  'em  —  ^if  you  work 
for  me,  you've  got  to  work  alongside  other  men  that 
may  be  union  and  may  not,  that's  none  of  your  busi- 
ness.    I'm  hiring  you  to  attend  to  my  business,  and 


98  THE  KUDDEB 

if  you  don't  like  my  ideas,  you  don't  need  to  stay, 
I  treat  3"0u  all  alike;  you  get  your  wages  right  on 
the  dot,  and  if  you  get  hurt  or  sick  or  in  trouble,  I'll 
see  you  through.  There  ain't  any  union  that'll  get 
you  higher  pay  for  the  same  amount  and  kind  of 
work,  or  fairer  treatment  than  I'll  give  you,  as  long 
as  you  do  your  duty.  Now  are  you  willing  to  come 
on  this  understanding? '  Most  of  'em  are,  and  most 
of  'em  stick.  Because  they  find  I'm  telling  the  truth 
and  acting  up  to  my  word." 

"  I  suppose  they  are  mostly  men  of  some  intelli- 
gence." 

Loring  grunted  again.  "  Intelligence  —  no !  They 
don't  have  to  be  overly  intelligent,"  he  said,  not  with- 
out scorn.  "  And  they  aren't  —  the  run  of  'em  aren't. 
An  engineer,  of  course,  has  to  understand  the  ma- 
chinery; they've  got  to  have  a  license.  But  one  of 
these  pullers,  like  Tom,  for  instance,  he  don't  need 
any  headpiece  —  just  enough  to  learn  when  to  turn  on 
the  power  and  dump  a  cake  of  ice.  Anybody  could 
do  it  —  you  could  do  it,  if  you  had  the  muscle,  and  it 
don't  even  take  a  great  deal  of  that,  since  we've  been 
using  this  compressed  air  system."  They  were  near- 
ing  the  scene  of  Tom's  operations  as  he  spoke,  and 
Mr.  Loring  dropped  his  voice  to  add :  "  You'll  see 
him  work  the  hoist  directly,  and  if  you  don't  think 
he  earns  his  two  dollars  a  day  about  as  easy  as  any- 
body could  —  practically  unskilled  labor,  mind  you! 
—  if  you  don't  think  he's  got  a  snap  for  a  man  of  that 
calibre,  I'm  a  Dutchman!  Here,  this  way.  Duck 
your  heads,  she's  going  over !  " 

The  long  sagging  cables,  obedient  to  some  mys- 
terious agency  high  in  the  dusky  rafters  above  them, 
were  moving  in  concert  crabwise  from  side  to  side 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  99 

over  an  area  perhaps  twenty  feet  wide,  the  entire 
length  of  the  room.  Young  Amzi  fearlessly  seized 
hold  of  them  and  lifted  them  over  Nellie's  head  for 
the  fraction  of  a  second,  as  she  dashed  across  the 
space,  stooping,  laughing,  tossing  him  a  brilliant 
glance  like  a  flower. 

"  Good  work !  "  said  Amzi,  following  her  at  leisure. 
''  You  don't  have  to  stoop.  Sport ! "  he  advised  Cook 
in  jocose  vein,  as  the  latter  prepared  to  join  them. 
''  Even  if  it  knocked  you  over,  you  wouldn't  have  very 
far  to  fall ! "  He  smote  the  little  author  a  stagger- 
ing clap  on  the  back,  and  burst  into  Gargantuan 
laughter.  Nellie  flushed,  with  an  apprehensive  look 
at  her  uncle;  and  the  elder  Loring  began  to  expostu- 
late, though  himself  obliged  to  restrain  a  chuckle. 

"  Here,  here,  here,  son !  I  don't  believe  you  know 
Mr. —  this  gentleman  well  enough  for  that  kind  of  a 
joke  — " 

But  Cook's  good-humour  was  invincible.  '^  Never 
mind,  sir,  never  mind  the  joke,"  he  interposed.  "  Just 
don't  let  him  hit  me  like  that  in  earnest  — "  And 
here  the  pneumatic  hoist  setting  up  its  high-pitched 
note  of  warning,  effected  a  diversion. 

They  w^atched  it  swing  a  metal  casket  across  in  its 
powerful  claws,  poise  an  instant  over  a  steep  shiny-wet 
toboggan-slide,  and  thunderously  let  fall  a  cake  of 
ice ;  it  swept  dizzily  down  the  slope,  vanishing  at  the 
far  end  with  another  concussion.  "  They  weigh  three 
hundred  pounds,"  Mr.  Loring  said.  "  Nice  and  clear, 
wasn't  it?  " 

"Beautifully  clear!  I  was  just  thinking  it  was 
like  a  great  glass  box,"  said  Cook.  ''  It  had  no  look 
of  being  solid." 

"  Um-huh.     Well,  I  have  seen  things  put  inside  it," 


100  THE  RUDDER 

said  the  other,  sly  anticipation  suddenly  appearing  on 
his  features.  He  nodded  significantly  to  the  puller; 
and  presently  with  another  clang,  another  wail  of 
escaping  air,  there  boomed  down  upon  the  runway 
and  fled  past  them  another  three  hundred  pounds 
with  a  dark  object  embedded  in  the  middle  of  it,  at 
sight  of  which  Cook  gave  an  exclamation. 

"^'WJiat!^'  he  shouted,  rushing  to  peer  after  it. 

"I  told  'em  to  save  out  that  cake  and  send  it  up 
to  the  house  for  you,"  said  Amzi  One,  smiling,  well- 
pleased.     "  You'll  see  it  again  when  you  get  home." 

"  Mr.  Loring,"  said  Cook  solemnly.  He  paused, 
swallowing  with  a  mighty  effort,  even  some  slight  con- 
tortion of  the  facial  muscles.  An  onlooker,  seeing 
him  in  pantomime,  might  have  interpreted  his  ex- 
pression as  that  of  a  man  choking  with  laughter 
which  he  was  determined  to  suppress.  "  Mr.  Loring, 
my  work  has  seldom  had  a  —  a  token  of  appreciation 
that  I  —  I  value  m-more  —  ahem  —  ho,  ha  —  ahem^ 
hem — !  '^ 

^'  Well,  I  haven't  ever  read  any  of  your  works,  you 
know,"  said  the  Ice-King  quickly.  "  I  went  to  a  book- 
store and  asked  for  the  latest,  and  they  told  me  that 
w^as  it.  Thought  maybe  it  would  be  a  kind  of  a 
unique  experience  for  you  to  see  it  that  way,  right  in 
the  centre  of  a  block  of  ice.  Did  you  notice  you  could 
read  the  title  plain  as  day?  That  shows  you  how 
clear  our  ice  is." 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  unique  experience,"  said  the  author ; 
and  again  he  halted  abruptly.  He  took  out  his  hand- 
kerchief, and  used  it  with  astonishing  noisy  vigour. 
^''  I  —  I  really  don't  know  what  to  say  —  ahem  —  ho, 
ha  —  ahem!  Anybody  that  huys  .one  of  my  books 
is  doing  me  a  favour,  you  know,  but  this  is  —  really  — 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIvE         101 

I  —  alio,  hem!  Yes,  I  saw  the  title  dihUnctiy.  It'y  a 
volume  of  short  stories  that  I've  been  told  needed  cold 
storage,  or  some  other  i}reservative  —  eh?  Oh,  ho, 
ha,  ha,  ha !  "  and  now  Mr.  Cook  did  give  way  to  laugh- 
ter most  freely ;  he  laughed  till  the  tears  came  into  his 
eyes,  joined  by  the  other  man,  who  observed  with  a 
wink  that  he'd  certainly  have  to  get  that  book  and 
read  it  himself,  if  it  was  as  gamey  as  its  author  hinted. 

Miss  Maranda  did  not  laugh.  She  stood  silently, 
rather  red  in  the  face,  intently  prodding  the  ferule 
of  her  parasol  into  a  knot-hole  in  the  floor.  And 
neither  did  the  younger  Amzi  laugh,  being  too  much 
occupied  with  her  to  take  note  of  what  was  going  on 
elsewhere.  It  was  Eleanor,  however,  who,  raising 
her  head  at  last  and  avoiding  her  uncle's  eyes  as  she 
stared  absently  through  the  windows  at  that  end  of 
the  loft,  was  the  first  to  perceive  that  something 
"  unique  "  appeared  to  be  taking  place  outside  also. 

"  Do  look  at  those  men  I  "  she  said.  "  They're  tear- 
ing this  way  like  mad.  There!  One  of  them  just 
shouted  something.  Do  you  suppose  anything's  hap- 
pened? " 

Amzi  Two  bent  down  to  look  past  her.  "  Just  set 
off  a  blast  probably,  and  they're  beating  it  to  get  out 
of  the  way,"  he  suggested. 

"  No,  no,  they've  finished  all  the  blasting  work  — 
at  this  end  anyhow,"  said  his  father.  He  looked  in 
turn;  they  heard  the  men's  voices;  Miss  Schlochter- 
maier  shrilly  responded  to  the  outcry. 

Cook  did*^  not  stop  to  think  about  it  at  the  time, 
but  he  remembered  afterwards  with  a  certain  admira- 
tion the  older  Loring  s  prompt  acti\dty,  the  economy, 
sureness  and  despatch  of  his  every  movement  whether 
of  mind  or  bodv.     While  the  rest  of  them  were  still 


102  THE  RUDDER 

hanging  irresoTiite/ idly  guessing,  he  was  at  the  door, 
he  was  in  the  office,  he  was  asking,  answering,  giving 
orders.  By  the  time  they  reached  it,  he  was  talking 
imperatively  into  the  telephone ;  he  crooked  his  finger 
and  the  bookkeeper  ran  to  him;  he  uttered  a  word, 
and  everybody  in  sight  sprang  to  the  allotted  task  or 
post.  Garry  and  the  automobile  sped  down  the  road 
at  punishable  speed;  bottles  of  whiskey  began  to  ap- 
pear from  nowhere;  somebody  was  pounding  ice.  A 
big  negro  man  leaning  against  the  door,  getting  his 
breath  in  gasps  with  the  sweat  rolling  down  his  face, 
answered  questions  excitedly. 

"  Yessuh,  yes'm.  Ah  run  all  the  way,  mighty  neah 
er  half-mile  —  yessuh,  close  ontuh  er  half-mile  — 
they  ain't  no  telefoam  nea'ah  'n  this  yer  one.  Yessuh, 
yes'm,  Mistuh  Devitt  done  had  er  stroke  —  pears  lak' 
it  mus'  be  er  stroke.  He  done  jus'  give  er  groan, 
'  Uh-uh ! '  jus'  go  lak'  that,  an'  drap  right  ovah  whar 
he  was  standin'.  Yes,  boss  —  no,  suh.  Ah  dunno 
wher'er  it  was  sun-stroke  or  his  hea't,  er  what  it  was. 
He  jus'  give  er  groan,  ^  Uh-h-h ! '  an'  jus'  crimple  right 
up  whar  he  was  standin' —  yessuh,  yes'm  — " 


CHAPTER  VII 

SO  timely  aud  well-takeu  were  Mr.  Loring's 
measures  that  a  doctor,  a  limber  sharp-eyed 
young  fellow,  arrived  with  his  kit  of  forbid- 
ding-looking tools  ready  for  action,  some  minutes 
ahead  of  the  automobile  bearing  Mr.  Devitt.  And 
happily,  after  all,  the  flurry  proved  to  be  without  so 
serious  a  cause  as  everybody  had  at  first  feared;  the 
hero  was  '^  nothing  like  dead,  nor  thinking  about  it/' 
as  Miss  Schlochtermaier  later  observed.  By  the  time 
he  reached  the  factory,  supported  on  the  floor  of  the 
tonneau  between  two  stalwart,  clay-besmeared  gentle- 
men from  his  ranks,  he  had  almost  regained  conscious- 
ness ;  indeed,  these  latter  testified  that  he  had  never 
entirely  lost  it,  having  from  the  beginning  dazedly  but 
with  firmness  objected  to  having  his  boots  taken  off 
when  one  Samaritan  volunteered  for  that  service. 
^'  Seemed  like  he  was  plumb  set  aginst  it,  so  Tony  just 
had  to  leave  'em  be,"  one  of  the  men  explained  apolo- 
getically. 

Tony,  who  needed  only  a  scarlet  sash  to  be  the  pic- 
ture of  a  Sicilian  brigand,  corroborated  the  statement 
with  many  amiable  nods  and  smiles.  ''  Da  boss  he 
ees  come  —  a  all  ri'  queek  now?  I  guess  yess?  "  was 
his  cheerful  conviction. 

"  Sure !  "  said  the  young  doctor  heartily,  after  one 
rapid  glance  into  the  stricken  man's  lead-coloured 
face.  The  spectacle  of  it,  taken  with  his  heavy 
breathing  and  uncertain  eyes,  was  still  sufficiently 

103 


104  THE  KUDDER 

alarming  to  the  lay  onlookers;  but  the  doctor's  au- 
thoritative coolness  steadied  them  all.  He  knelt 
down  by  the  couch  which  Eleanor  had  hastily  im- 
provised out  of  automobile  cushions  and  rugs,  rolling 
up  his  sleeves,  giving  directions.  "  Easy  now !  No, 
don't  let  his  head  down  flat  —  just  a  little  higher  — 
so!  That's  it.  Miss  —  that's  right!  "  he  said  approv- 
ingly to  the  girl,  who  showed  herself  admirably  col- 
lected, efficient  and  quick  to  understand.  "  No,  I 
don't  want  the  ice.  Take  his  other  arm,  one  of  you. 
Now  this  way  —  work  it  this  way,  see?  " 

It  was  Tony  who  helped  him;  the  other  man,  the 
negro  labourer,  the  bookkeeper.  Cook,  the  two  Lorings 
stood  around  the  room  helplessly,  watching.  "  If  you 
want  anything,  just  say  so.  Just  say  what  it  is," 
Amzi  senior  said  at  intervals,  with  his  hand  on  the 
telephone. 

''  Better  get  outside,  and  let  him  have  whatever  air 
there  is  in  here,  hadn't  we?  "  said  Cook.  The  younger 
Amzi  immediately  adopted  the  suggestion;  he  went 
outside  and  lit  a  cigarette;  the  chauffeur  joined  him 
and  they  talked  in  low  tones. 

"  He'll  come  around  in  a  minute,"  the  doctor  said 
watchfully,  not  ceasing  the  massage. 

^^  Take-a  da  boot  —  eh?"  asked  the  Italian,  hope- 
fully. 

Mr.  Devitt  moved  his  head;  he  essayed  to  raise  it. 

"  Look  out,  he's  coming  'round,"  said  the  doctor 
again.  And  to  be  sure,  the  patient  spoke;  he  also 
fixed  his  eyes  frowningly  on  all  their  faces  in  succes- 
sion, fastening  at  last  on  Nellie's. 

"  What  the  devil  ye  want  me  boots  off  for?  I  don't 
want  'em  off,  I'm  telling  ye !  "  said  Mr.  Devitt. 

Miss  Schlochtermaier  uttered  a  slight  scream  and 


THE  RETUPiX  OF  THE  NATIVE         105 

then  began  to  giggle  hysterically.     "  Oh,  my,  if  that 
ain't  the  hir/gcst  relief  I ''  she  exclaimed. 

"All  right,  sir,''  said  the  doctor,  soothingly. 
"  Just  don't  you  try  to  talk  for  a  minute.  Drink  this. 
See  if  you  can't  drink  this  now." 

"  Here,  you  mind  the  telephone,"  Amzi  One  com- 
manded the  bookkeeper.  "  If  you  want  anything, 
just  tell  her.  She'll  get  it  for  you  or  telephone,  you 
know,  for  anything  you  want,"  he  reiterated,  and 
went  outside  too,  and  lit  a  cigar. 

"  Oughtn't  I  to  open  his  collar?  "  asked  Nellie. 

"  Be  Heayens,  ye'd  haye  to  put  one  on  me  first!  "  the 
sick  man  answered  her  unexpectedly.  His  yoice  and 
grin  were  feeble,  but  his  eyes  had  assumed  a  normal 
expression,  and  the  effort  he  made  to  sit  up  was  much 
stronger.  Nellie  began  to  laugh  a  little  hysterically 
in  her  turn,  and  eyen  the  doctor  chuckled  as  he  re- 
strained Deyitt's  moyement. 

"Here,. now,  don't  get  too  brash.  You'll  haye  to 
lie  still  for  a  while  yet.     You've  been  sick,  you  know." 

"  Who?  Me?  Who're  ye  talking  to  anyways?  Is 
it  yourself,  Tony?     Where's  the  rest  of  the  boys?  " 

"  He'll  be  all'  right  now,"  said  the  doctor  aside  to 
Nellie,  and  rose,  dusting  off  the  knees  of  his  trousers. 
Sure  enough,  in  another  minute,  Deyitt  seemed  to 
come  to  himself  completely  and  sitting  up,  propped 
against  Tony's  shoulder,  asked  what  time  it  was,  rec- 
ognised the  place  and  Mr.  Loring,  and  vigorously  ex- 
pressed mingled  annoyance,  wonder,  gratitude  and 
apology. 

"  If  this  don't  beat  all !  Did  anybody  ever  hear  the 
like?  It's  not  as  if  I  was  a  drinking  man  —  I've  al- 
ways kept  away  from  the  stuff  —  anybody  that  knows 
me'll  tell  you  that.     'Twas  a  touch  o'  the  sun,  doctor, 


106     .  THE  EUDDER 

I  don't  know?  This  is  the  fine  time  o'  day  for  me  to 
be  getting  sunstroke,  now  ain't  it?  Ah,  well,  I'm  not 
as  young  as  I  was,  and  that's  the  truth.  Mr.  Loring, 
sir,  and  Miss — "  he  made  a  deprecatory  gesture  — 
^^  I  don't  know  your  name,  but  I'm  that  obliged  to  ye ! 
And  I'm  sorry  I  give  ye  so  much  trouble,"  said 
Michael  earnestly. 

Amzi  the  elder  acknowledged  the  words  by  a  brief 
inarticulate  sound.  But  Nellie  spoke  out  with  her 
bright  freedom  which  was  yet  somehow  not  familiar, 
not  forward ;  it  made  one  think  of  Viola,  of  Rosalind. 
''  My  name  is  Eleanor  Maranda,"  she  said.  "  And 
you  haven't  been  any  trouble  at  all,  Mr.  Devitt.  And 
I  really  haven't  done  anything  —  none  of  us  have  — 
so  you're  not  to  think  about  it  any  more.  Just  think 
about  taking  care  of  yourself  in  this  heat,  and  keeping 
well." 

"  That's  right,"  the  doctor  said,  looking  up  with  a 
sagacious  and  w^arning  wag  of  the  head  from  the 
satchel  which  he  was  now  rei3acking.  ^'  You  ought  to 
be  careful  — "  He  made  some  abstruse  references  to 
"  cardiac  action,"  ^^  sclerosis,"  and  so  on,  and  finished 
with  another  general  caution.  "  Not  too  much  exer- 
tion, not  too  much  excitement,  you  know.  Better 
rest  for  a  day  or  so  after  this.  I  suppose  there's 
somebody  here  that  can  take  him  to  his  home?  He'd 
better  not  attempt  it  by  himself,"  he  added,  looking 
around,  with  a  glance,  perhaps  involuntary,  towards 
the  big  automobile. 

Nellie's  eyes  followed  his,  and  then  turned  upon 
young  Amzi.  But  it  appeared  that  both  Lorings, 
father  and  son,  considered  the  incident  closed  as  far 
as  concerned  them  and  their  good  offices.  The 
younger  man  shifted  his  cigar,  and  looked  off,  delib- 


THE  EETUKX  OF  THE  NATIVE  107 

eratelj  unresponsive  even  to  Xellie's  mute  appeal; 
the  elder  said  loudly  and  joyially  that  of  course  that 
would  be  all  right  —  Devitt  could  stay  here  as  long 
as  he  wanted  to,  till  whenever  he  felt  equal  to  mov-. 
ing  —  going  back  down-town,  that  is  —  certainly  that 
would  be  all  right.  He  looked  at  his  watch,  and  ex- 
claimed with  surprise  that  it  was  only  five  o'clock  — 
only  just  five  —  this  whole  thing,  this  whole  excite- 
ment hadn't  been  more  than  fifteen  minutes  I  Seemed 
longer,  didn't  it?  Well,  all's  well  that  ends  well, 
hey?  Certainly  it  would  be  all  right  for  Mr.  Devitt 
to  stay  until  he  got  good  and  rested  up.  Of  course 
there  would  be  somebody  around  the  place  —  there 
was  always  somebody  around. 

Cook  was  about  to  offer  his  services,  when  Nellie 
intervened.  "  Never  mind,"  she  said,  colouring  hotly 
in  a  kind  of  humane  mortification  which  her  uncle  at 
least  perfectly  well  understood.  ''  I'll  stay  here. 
The  men  and  I  can  manage  very  well;  I  believe  we 
could  take  him  home  on  the  street-car  — " 

^'Oh,  you  can't  do  anything  like  that,  Nellie. 
You'd  better  not  try  anything  like  that.  Now  you 
leave  it  to  me,  or  one  of  us  —  it'll  be  attended  to  — " 
Cook  began ;  but  his  undertone  was  lost  in  Amzi  Two's 
vehement  gi'owl  of  protest. 

^^You!'^  he  said  in  an  impatience  flavoured  with 
anger,  even  with  contempt.  "  You  don't  know  what 
you're  talking  about.  It  takes  a  woman  to  think  she 
can  boss  things!  You  don't  have  to  lug  him  around. 
Let  some  of  his  own  men  do  it.  They  can  take  him 
home  in  one  of  their  dump-carts  if  they  can't  find  any- 
thing else  —  make  up  a  bed  in  the  bottom  of  it  and  it 
would  be  good  enough.  It  won't  be  the  first  time  he's 
ridden  in  one  of  'em  — "  during  all  of  which  speech 


108  THE  RUDDER 

—  and  there  was  more  of  it  to  the  same  effect  —  young 
Mr.  Loring  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  abate  his  nat- 
urally loud^  heavy  voice,  in  spite  of  Eleanor's  ur- 
gently and  distressfully  significant  face.  Even  Amzi 
senior  looked  momentarily  perturbed;  and  Cook,  for 
his  part,  was  actually  hoping  that  the  sick  man  was 
still  too  sick  to  catch  the  meaning  of  this  discussion, 
when  Devitt  spoke. 

"I  thank  ye,  Miss,  but  I  couldn't  think  of  it,"  he 
said,  not  without  dignity.  The  fact  that  he  was 
merely  an  elderly  Irishman  of  the  working-class^ 
sprawling  on  the  floor  in  a  blue  denim  shirt  none  too 
clean,  with  a  worn  old  coat  smelling  of  stale  tobacco 
and  perspiration,  and  a  pair  of  old  muddy  brogans 
patched  on  the  soles  —  these  facts  and  details  all  at 
once  passed  from  view.  "  If  ye'll  be  so  kind  as  to 
telephone  my  Tvdfe,  and  tell  her  gentle-like,  not  to 
scare  her  —  if  ye'll  do  that  much  more  for  me,  'tis 
more  than  I  ought  to  be  putting  on  ye,  but  I  can't 
ever  be  even  with  your  kindness  anyways.  And  if 
Mr.  Loring  will  leave  me  the  loan  of  his  floor  to  lay 
on  till  my  boy  Tim  —  Chauncey,  that  is  —  till  he  can 
get  to  me,  there's  no  need  for  any  of  ye  to  bother  your 
heads  any  more  about  me.     I  thank  ye  all." 

It  was  a  dismissal.  There  seemed  nothing  for  it 
but  to  do  as  he  requested,  and  then  take  themselves 
off,  leaving  him  to  the  care  of  his  men,  several  of 
whom  had  now  collected,  some  anxious,  some  stolid, 
some  only  inquisitive.  Sudden  quiet  fell  and  they 
all  made  way  when  the  ice  monarch  emerged ;  nobody 
ventured  to  question  him.  Cook  followed  slowly  in 
a  discomfort  which  no  ironical  reminders  that  it  was 
not  his  business  how  humanely  or  inhumanely  these 
Loring  men   acted,   could   alleviate.     He   wondered, 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE         109 

flincliing,  what  these  others  thought,  and  wondered 
again,  as  he  looked  at  them,  to  see  that  apparently 
they  were  not  thinking  at  all ;  they  seemed  to  take 
everything  that  was  happening  as  a  matter-of-course. 
A  man  —  even  their  ^'  boss  " —  was  taken  sick ;  he  was 
looked  after  or  he  was  neglected;  he  died  or  he  got 
well ;  it  was  all  on  the  knees  of  the  gods  —  those  gods 
who  had  allotted  them  their  hard,  dull  lives,  their 
jjoor,  dull  minds.  Cook  flinched  again  in  a  sudden 
torment  of  pity  and  self-abasement. 

The  evening  whistles  blew  in  the  factories  at  Elm- 
wood  hard  by;  the  crowd  augmented  as  empty  ice- 
wagons  arrived  one  after  another  jingling  stable- 
wards,  their  crews  volleying  inquiries.  Garry  began 
to  crank  u]).  Young  Amzi,  gloweringly  silent, 
waited  on  Eleanor  who  retreated  at  length,  doubtful 
and  reluctant.  One  divined  that,  left  to  her  own  de- 
sire, or  had  there  been  more  women  to  back  her  up, 
the  girl  could  not  have  been  persuaded  to  abandon 
her  patient;  but  Miss  Schlochtermaier  was  already 
departing  in  a  twitter,  and  this  company  of  males 
daunted  Nellie,  for  all  her  spirit.  Her  petticoated 
presence  amongst  them  became  somehow  unnecessary, 
even  meddlesome,  an  added  burden.  Still  she  hesi- 
tated, thereby  pushing  young  Loring  to  the  farthest 
verge  of  irritation. 

"  Come  along  I  I  tell  you  you  can't  do  anything 
more,  you're  just  in  the  way.  A  girl  hasn't  any  busi- 
ness around  this  kind  of  a  place.  What  can  you  do 
for  a  sick  man?  ''  he  said  rou2:hlv.  ^^  He's  not  so  very 
sick  anyhow  —  he'll  be  all  right  directly  —  the  doctor 
says  so.  You  can't  kill  that  kind.  Come  0)i! 
You're  keeping  everybody  waiting." 

"  I    know  —  I'm    coming,"    said    Eleanor    meekly. 


110  THE  EUDDER 

"I  —  I  just  wanted  to  be  sure  it  was  right  to  leave 
him."  She  broke  away  to  appeal  to  the  doctor.  "  Do 
YOU  really  think  it's  all  right,  doctor?  Do  the  men 
know  enough  to  take  care  of  him?  Will  it  be  safe 
for  us  to  go  awaj  before  his  son  gets  here?" 

"  Oh-h,  Lord!  '■  ejaculated  Amzi  Two,  in  exaspera- 
tion. 

^'  He  won't  have  any  return  of  that  —  that  —  what- 
ever it  was?  I  mean  the  heat  won't  affect  him  that 
way  again? '' 

The  doctor,  who  had  taken  Devitt's  foreman  aside 
and  was  addressing  some  parting  injunction  to  him 
in  a  confidential  voice,  cocked  an  eye  towards  her, 
and  made  a  species  of  negative  grimace,  slight  but  of 
emphatic  meaning.  "  Heat  won't  hurt  him.  It 
wasn't  the  heat.  He'd  have  had  the  same  kind  of  an 
attack  in  zero  weather.  That  trouble  he  has'll  get 
him  some  day.  But  you  needn't  to  worry  about  the 
heat,"  said  he,  jerked  the  ink  into  his  fountain-pen, 
and  went  on  writing  out  the  road-contractor's  name 
and  address  at  the  foreman's  dictation,  on  a  leaf  of 
his  prescription-book.  "  First  of  the  month's  time 
enough,"  he  added  liberally,  in  answer  to  some 
mumbled  suggestion  from  the  foreman.  The  elder 
Loring  gave  him  a  cigar. 

^^Had  enough?  Ready  to  come  now?"  Amzi 
junior  wanted  to  know  of  Nellie,  almost  threaten- 
ingly. 

"  Better  obey,  Nellie,  before  Mr.  Loring  gets  a 
club,"  said  Cook,  in  his  pleasantest  and  simplest  man- 
ner. Whatever  the  remark  was  meant  to  convey  it 
passed  over  the  younger  Amzi  and  left  him  unscathed ; 
the  operation.  Cook  thought  savagely,  was  compar- 
able to  sticking  pins  into  a  rhinoceros ;  but  the  older 


THE  RETUEN  OF  THE  NATIVE  111 

man  gave  him  an  investigating  side-glance,  and  ha- 
La'd  not  quite  spontaneonsh'. 

",Here  now,  son ! "  he  remonstrated ;  '^  you  let 
the  young  lady  take  her  own  time.  What's  the 
hurry?" 

^^  I'm  coming/'  said  Eleanor  in  tlie  submissive 
style  that  her  uncle  inwardly  admitted  "  stumped  '^ 
him. 

"  T  don't  Tvant  you  standing  around  here  for  a  lot 
of  other  men  to  stare  at.  I  Avon't  have  it,"  the  young 
man  growled  violently  in  her  ear,  as  he  helped  her 
into  the  car ;  and  Xellie  smiled,  not  ill-pleased  I 

No  more  adventures  befell  them  on  the  way  home; 
and  the  ice-king  set  his  guests  down  at  their  own 
gate  with  strong  expressions  of  good-will,  coupled 
with  equally  strong  regrets  when  he  heard  that  Mr. 
Cook  was  to  leave  for  the  "  East "  the  next  day.  Not 
that  Mr.  Loring  supposed  his  new  acquaintance  to  be 
about  to  make  the  long  and  more  or  less  hazardous 
journey  to  Bagdad  or  some  other  point  in  the  Orient ; 
to  middle-western  ears,  the  ''  East "  means  specifically 
the  city  of  New^  York,  and  all  roads  lead  thither. 

"  Well,  now,  that's  a  pity.  I  was  hoping  we  were 
going  to  see  a  little  more  of  you,"  he  said  sincerely. 
^^  I'd  have  liked  to  have  you  over  at  the  house  to  din- 
ner, but  we'll  have  to  let  that  go  until  the  next  time 
you're  out  this  way,  I  guess.  I'm  pleased  to  have  met 
vou,  Mr. —  er  —  and  I  mean  what  I  said  about  vour 
book.  I'm  going  to  get  it  —  I'm  going  to  get  all 
of  'em.  Well,  good-bye!  Take  care  of  yourself! 
Hey?  Oh,  yes  —  yes — "  He  took  Cook's  card  with 
a  faintly  surprised  look  v»^hich,  however,  cleared  up 
directly.  ''The  Oasis  Club,  West  Forty-Fifth/' 
"  Why,  yes,  certainly,  I'll  hunt  you  up  the  next  time 


112  THE  RUDDER 

I'm  on.  Be  glad  to.  Do  you  know — "  he  added 
with  a  half  laugh  — "  do  you  know  I  hadn't  any  idea 
an  author  would  have  a  card,  or  a  regular  place  where 
you  could  find  him  —  unless,  of  course,  he  repre- 
sented some  newspaper,  or  something  of  that  sort. 
But  after  all,  it's  a  business  like  any  other  business. 
Well,  take  good  care  of  yourself ! '' 

"  'Bye  I  "  said  the  other  Amzi,  offering  his  hand. 

"  What?  Shan't  I  see  you  again  before  I  go?  "  the 
novelist  asked  agreeably. 

"  Guess  not." 

"  I  thought  you  might  be  coming  over?  " 

"  Huh !     Xo>' 

He  parted  from  Nellie  in  similar  fashion,  with 
scarcely  a  word;  they  looked  at  each  other.  Cook 
groaned  in  spirit  —  he  was  very  careful  not  to  groan 
in  the  flesh !  —  to  see  that  look.  "  Of  course  he  won't 
come  over  while  I'm  still  here  —  I  might  have  known 
that!  ^^  he  said  to  himself.  "  Nellie's  coached  him, 
or  else  he  simply  doesn't  want  to  come  when  there's 
so  little  chance  of  seeing  her  alone.  They  seem  to 
have  a  tolerably  plain  understanding  already.  Good 
Lord!  But  after  that  exhibition  this  afternoon,  how 
can  she  — ?  " 

Speculating  gloomily,  he  followed  Nellie  up  the 
walk;  and  coming  down  it  they  met  a  friend  of  the 
family,  hurrying  home  from  an  informal  summer  call 
which,  she  assured  them,  had  prolonged  itself  to  this 
^'  scandalous  "  hour  without  her  being  conscious  of 
it.  "  It  was  so  delightfully  cool  and  pleasant  on  your 
porch,  and  we  were  having  such  a  nice  chat,  I  didn't 
realise  —  Mercy,  no,  I  couldn't  stay  to  dinner,  thank 
you  so  much !  —  Mr.  Cook,  I'm  ashamed  to  look  you 
in  the  face,  I  haven't  read  your  last  book !     I'm  going 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  113 

to,  of  course,  I  can  liardly  wait  —  the  minute  I  get 
time —  Isn't  it  wonderful  how  many  books  there 
are?  One  can't  get  around  all  of  them.  Are  you 
working  now?  It  must  be  so  interesting.  I  was  just 
saying  to  Mrs.  Maranda  how  much  we  all  envied  her, 
having  a  celebrity  in  the  house !  "  She  stopped  for 
breath,  smiling,  a  little  excited,  visibly  awaiting  some 
scintillating  bit  of  repartee. 

"  Well-er-a  celebrity  ?     I'm   afraid  Mrs.   Maranda 

—  among  others  —  wouldn't  recognise  me  by  that  de- 
scription —  I'd  be  out  of  my  class,  you  know,  Mrs. 
Clapp  — " 

"  Indeed  you  icouldn't  be !  We're  all  just  as  proud 
of  you  as  we  can  be.  How  long  are  you  — ?  To-mor- 
row afternoon?  You  do  make  such  flying  visits. 
Mrs.  Maranda  told  me  she  was  afraid  she  couldn't  get 
you  to  stay.  She's  so  disappointed  —  she  enjoys  so 
having  you  here.  And  takes  so  much  interest  in  your 
career  I  But  she's  a  lovely  woman  anyhow  —  she 
lives  for  others !  Oh,  my  dear  — ! "  and  here  Mrs. 
Clapp  turned  to  Nellie  impulsively.  "  You  are  the 
luckiest  to  have  somebody  like  that  for  a  step-mother 

—  the  sweetest  thing!  And  perfectly  devoted  to  you. 
I  wish  you  could  hear  the  sweet  way  she  talks  about 
you.  I  can't  help  telling  you.  You  know  —  or  you 
know",  Mr.  Cook,  with  all  your  wonderful  study  of  the 
world  and  human  nature,  that  she's  very,  very  un- 
usual ! " 

"  Yes,  she  is  unusual.  I  realise  that  we  ought  to  be 
thankful  that  she  is  so  unusual,"  said  Marshall, 
gravely. 

"  And  she's  such  a  sufferer,  too !  Tve  known  Mrs. 
Maranda  for  years,  and  I  always  say  that  there  isn't 
anybody  like  her,"  Mrs.  Clapp  said  with  warmth.     "  I 


114  THE  KUDDER 

must  fly  —  it's  perfectly  awful  my  staying  this  way. 
Give  my  love  to  Fannie  —  so  sorry  she's  sick.'' 

Mrs.  Maranda  was  alone  on  the  porch,  languidly 
fanning  in  her  wheeled-chair;  and  in  reply  to  Cook's 
surprised  and  concerned  inquiries  after  I'annie,  told 
them  that  she  had  gone  to  lie  down.  "  She  thought 
that  she  had  a  headache  coming  on.  All  that  talk 
about  the  heat  frightened  her  into  it,  I  believe  —  you 
know  poor  Fannie's  so  nervous  and  imaginative,  she 
goes  to  pieces  at  the  least  thing,  and  there's  no  use 
trying  to  reason  her  out  of  it.  I've  tried  that.  I 
made  her  go.  She  actually  got  me  a  little  nervous, 
too,  ripping  and  tearing  at  that  dress.  She  hasn't 
a  particle  of  self-control  —  Dear  me,  if  she  had  ever 
had  to  go  through  what  Fve  gone  through !  When 
she  began  to  get  into  that  state,  I  kept  saying  to  her : 
^  Fannie,  do  stop !  Do  leave  it  alone !  You're  ruin- 
ing it.  I  don't  want  you  to  work  at  it  when  you're 
in  that  hysterical  condition.'  So  finally  I  persuaded 
her.     I'm  all  worn  out  with  her  myself." 

Eleanor  made  an  inarticulate  sound ;  then  she  went 
swiftly  indoors  and  upstairs.  Cook  sat  down  and 
took  a  palm-leaf  fan.  "  No  wonder  you're  worn  out, 
Juliet!  The  trouble  is  you're  too  sympathetic,"  he 
said  gently.     "  You  think  too  much  of  other  people." 


M 


CHAPTER  VIII 

RS.  JULIET  MARANDA,  being  of  that 
feminine  generation  which  was  trained  to 
a  devout  belief  that  the  man  of  the  house 
must  be  "  entertained  '^  every  moment  that  he  was  in 
it,  whatever  his  own  desire  and  disposition,  sat  with 
her  guest  on  the  front  porch  until  a  late  hour  after 
dinner,  "  entertaining ''  him  faithfully  —  and  at 
times,  perhaps,  in  ways  she  did  not  suspect.  Cook 
had  long  ago  explored  every  nook  and  corner  of  his 
sister-in-law's  mind  —  not  a  varied  or  extensive  ter- 
ritory according  to  his  probably  prejudiced  view;  he 
believed  that  he  knew  exactly  how  much  she  would  un- 
derstand, exactly  what  she  would  think,  feel,  say  un- 
der any  given  circumstances ;  and  as  a  matter  of  fact 
his  guesses  seldom  went  astray.  Withal  she  did  not 
bore  him ;  she  was  not  a  dull  woman ;  Marshall  had  a 
theory  that  it  did  him  good  to  exercise  his  faculty  for 
listening  sympathetically,  or  appearing  to  listen  sym- 
pathetically, and  it  most  unquestionably  did  him  good 
to  exercise  that  other  faculty  for  throwing  in  small, 
amiable,  guileless-sounding  speeches  that  Juliet  al- 
ways innocently  took  at  their  face  value.  After  this 
fashion  he  enlivened  the  two  hours  for  himself,  and 
was  almost  too  successful  in  creating  the  illusion  of 
companionship  for  Mrs.  Maranda ! 

"  I  hate  to  go  —  it  is  so  delightful  to  have  a  con- 
genial person  to  talk  to,''  she  said  at  length,  rising 
with  a  sigh.     "  But  you  know  how  it  is.     I  have  to 

115 


116  THE  RUDDER 

go  to  bed  at  a  certain  hour.  What  a  nuisance  a  per- 
son's health  can  be !  When  you  have  to  take  care  of 
yourself  all  the  time,  the  way  I  do,  I  mean.  But 
then,  if  I  dicWt,  I'd  be  a  constant  trouble  to  every- 
body, and  that's  the  only  reason  I  do!  For  myself 
I  don't  care.  I'm  used  to  suffering —  Oh,  yes,  I 
don't  mind  it  at  all !  "  Mrs.  Maranda  went  on  heroic- 
ally as  Cook  uttered  an  inarticulate  murmur  of  con- 
dolence. "  I  never  talk  about  it.  I  try  to  keep  it  out 
of  sight  and  out  of  mind  as  much  as  possible.  But  it 
is  provoking  when  I  have  to  leave  an  interesting  talk 
like  this  and  go  to  bed.  You  don't  mind  my  not  stay- 
ing up  longer  with  you,  do  you,  Marshall?  You  know 
if  I  did,  I  probably  wouldn't  sleep  one  wink  all  night, 
and  I  can't  stand  that  strain."  She  paused,  and 
added  impressively :  "  I  only  slept  two  hours  last 
night !  " 

'^  What!  That's  very  serious.  Have  you  had  the 
doctor?  "  Cook  inquired  anxiously. 

"  Gracious,  no,  Marshall !  I  wouldn't  have  the 
doctor  for  that.  It's  three  dollars  a  visit,  you  know," 
said  his  sister-in-law  with  some  asperity.  "  Some 
l^eople  would,  no  doubt  —  some  people  get  nervous 
about  themselves.  Fortunately  I  have  plenty  of  self- 
control." 

Cook  coughed.  '^  Er  —  ah-h !  Yes,  to  be  sure  — " 
He  moved  to  open  the  screen-door  for  her. 

"  I  really  hate  to  go,"  Mrs.  Maranda  said  again, 
lingering.  "  I  wish  you  were  going  to  be  here  longer. 
It's  so  nice.  Women  shut  up  in  a  house  together  get 
so  tired  of  one  another.  I  know  every  idea  in  Fan- 
nie's  and  Nellie's  heads,  both  of  them !  " 

"Do  you?  I  wish  I  did!"  said  Cook,  honestly 
enou2:h.     He  had  refrained  from  discussing  Nellie's 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  117 

affairs  of  sentimeut  with  the  older  lady,  whom  Nellie 
herself  would  not  dream  of  taking  into  confidence; 
knowing  that,  Mr.  Cook  would  have  considered  it  in- 
discreet, even  disloyal  and  altogether  beneath  him  to 
have  opened  the  subject  with  Mrs.  Maranda  —  how- 
ever much  he  might  reveal  and  whatever  comments  he 
might  make  to  a  certain  other  person !  "  Do  they 
know  everv  idea  in  vours,  too?  ■■  he  asked. 

"  The  girls  f  No  indeed!  '^  cried  out  Mrs.  Maranda, 
htimorotisly  shocked.  "  Why,  Marshall,  I  thought 
you  knew  better  than  that!  Girls  never  think  of  any- 
thins^  or  anvbodv  but  themselves.  No,  I  do  all  the 
thinking  and  planning  for  the  house,  and  for  every 
single  person  in  it.  The  doctors  have  always  tried 
to  stop  me;  they  always  keep  telling  me  not  to  shoul- 
der all  the  responsibilities,  but  you  know  that  isn't 
my  disposition.  I'm  one  of  those  people  that  can't 
be  satisfied  unless  thev  are  doini?  their  whole  dutv. 
I  told  Doctor  Lloyd  that  the  other  day  when  he  was 
doing  his  best  to  persuade  me  to  let  things  go  a  little, 
and  he  sat  and  looked  at  me  for  at  least  a  minute  per- 
fectly silent  —  the  strangest  way  I  Then  he  all  at 
once  burst  out :  ^  Well,  Mrs.  Maranda,  there  aren't 
so  many  people  that  "  can't  be  satisfied "  in  that 
w^av,  as  vou  think.  You're  one  in  a  thousand  I ' 
^  Oh,  doctor,'  I  said;  ^that's  all  nonsense  I  There're 
plenty  of  people  that  have  as  much  sense  of  duty  as  I 
have  —  plenty!^  But  he  seems  to  think  I'm  won- 
derful. When  he  heard  you  were  coming  he  asked 
me  if  you  had  ever  put  me  in  a  book.  I  said :  '  Oh, 
Marshall  wouldn't  do  that! '  " 

"  No,  of  course  I  wouldn't  I ''  said  Cook,  heartily. 

"  Of  course  not  I  That's  what  I  told  him,"  said  the 
lady,  a  faint  note  of  disai^pointment  in  her  voice, 


118  THE  EUDDER 

which  caused  Mr.  Cook  to  smile  villainously  in  the 
dark.  She  went  in,  and  the  author  settled  himself  to 
the  smoking  of  more  cigarettes  —  innumerable  ciga- 
rettes, one  after  another,  stretched  out  at  ease  with 
his  hands  behind  his  head  and  his  feet  elevated  to  the 
porch  railing,  now  that  the  formality  required  by 
Mrs.  Juliet's  presence  could  be  abandoned.  Thus  he 
sat  motionless  and  smoked  and  contemplated  the 
stars  until  the  sound  of  the  door  opening  again  drew 
his  eyes  to  his  niece  Eleanor  slipping  gently  out 
through  it.     "  Hey?  "  said  Cook,  stirring  lazily. 

^'  Don't  move,  Uncle  Marsh,  don't  get  up.  I 
thought  I'd  come  out  for  a  while.  It's  too  hot  up- 
stairs to  sleep."  She  perched  herself  on  the  railing, 
alongside  his  feet.  "  Don't  look  at  me  either,  if  you 
think  it's  too  shocking.  I'm  just  the  same  as  usual, 
only  I've  got  on  a  kimono  instead  of  a  dress.  This 
isn't  New  York,  so  you  needn't  mind." 

"  Don't  mind.  Like  it,"  said  her  uncle  indistinctly 
through  his  cigarette.  "  Look  nice  —  what  I  can  see 
of  you."  Nellie  was  indeed  only  a  slender  white 
silhouette  poised  on  the  rail,  her  kimono  clinging 
poetically  to  her  long  young  figure;  her  arms  were 
bare,  her  hair  an  irregular  blot  of  darkness  around 
the  pale  blot  of  her  face.  In  this  attitude  and  cos- 
tume she  did  not  suggest  the  ghost  or  fairy ;  hers  was 
the  springy  yet  substantial  grace  of  a  Diana.  "  Shake 
foot,  eh?"  said  Cook,  shifting  the  cigarette  so  as  to 
hold  out  his  right  hand  free.     "  Stick  it  out,  Nell  I  " 

She  gave  a  sort  of  abstracted  laugh,  and  put  out  her 
foot  obediently.  It  was  a  thin,  narrow  foot,  small- 
boned  though  not  small,  for  Nellie  was  a  tall  woman ; 
and  it  was  handsomely  cased  just  now  in  a  silk  stock- 
ing and  a  fanciful  mule  of  black  brocade  with  a  high, 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE         110 

tapering  scarlet  heel;  the  thing  dropped  down  and 
swung  from  her  toe  as  Cook  took  the  compact  instep 
into  his  hand  and  wagged  it  caressingly.  This  was  an 
old  trick,  left  over  from  the  days  when,  a  lean,  gloomy, 
dyspeptic  lad  of  eighteen  or  so,  he  had  played  with 
the  baby  girl,  and  made  goblin  faces,  and  told  her 
nightmare  tales  without  ever  succeeding,  to  his  dis- 
appointment, in  frightening  her;  Eleanor  was  of  a 
good  spirit.  She  bent  down  and  fitted  the  slipper  on 
again,  as  he  released  her  foot  at  the  conclusion  of  this 
rite,  which  of  old  had  always  marked  and  consum- 
mated their  treaties  of  peace. 

''  You  gave  me  these,  do  you  remember?  You  sent 
them  to  me  from  some  gorgeous  Fifth  Avenue  shop 
last  Christmas.  I  think  they  are  so  pretty.  You 
always  seem  to  know  exactly  w  hat  everybody  likes." 

"  That's  my  job,"  said  the  other,  lightly. 

Nellie  leaned  against  the  post,  staring  at  the  sky 
for  a  w^hile  in  silence.  A  clock  somewhere  in  the 
neighbourhood  struck.  "  Twelve,"  she  said,  counting. 
There  was  another  silence.     ''Fan's  been  horridly 

sick." 

Cook  exclaimed  in  real  sympathy  this  time: 
"  Pshaw !  That's  too  bad !  Oughtn't  we  to  get  some- 
body?" 

''  A  doctor,  you  mean?  She  icon't^  you  know.  I 
didn't  want  to  fret  her.  She's  a  little  bit  better  now. 
Headache.  It's  perfectly  racking,  I've  been  bath- 
ing it  for  her,"  said  Nellie  disconnectedly.  Then 
after  another  gap  of  silence,  she  suddenly  announced 
with  fierce  emphasis:  "  I  hate  to  have  Fannie  sick  I 
I  can't  hear  it.  She's  so  —  well,  I  hate  it,  that's  all  I 
It's  —  it's  beastly !  " 

Her  uncle  gTunted  his  entire  acquiescence. 


120  THE  RUDDER 

"  There's  no  need  of  it.  It  doesn't  have  to  be,"  said 
Nellie.  "  That's  one  of  the  things  that  make  me  so 
angry  —  and  I  can't  do  anything!  Fannie  thinks 
she  ought  — !  But  she  doesn't  have  to  —  she  doesn't 
have  to  at  all  — " 

Her  vehemence  seemed  to  expect  denial  or  argu- 
ment ;  but  Cook,  who  could  easily  enough  fill  out  the 
gaps  in  these  broken  statements,  embarked  on  neither. 
That  refrain  of  '^  Same  old  thing  "  echoed  through  his 
mind.  He  remembered  the  youthful  bitterness  of  his 
own  revolt  when  he  was  Eleanor's  age ;  and  her  recog- 
nition of  helplessness  touched  him.  That  "  I  can't 
do  anything ! "  revealed  her  in  the  clutch  of  Circum- 
stance, not ''  fell  "  indeed  —  a  word  which  would  have 
been  ludicrously  high  —  but  incredibly  potent  and 
silly.  In  his  own  case,  there  had  been  the  advantage 
of  his  sex ;  one  way  or  another  he  could  always  escape ; 
and  for  him  there  was  never  the  truly  distressing 
spectacle  of  a  Fannie.  It  was  the  most  unhappy 
comedy ;  but  how  or  when,  if  ever,  would  the  curtain 
fall  on  it?  The  grave  thing  was  its  possible  effect 
on  Eleanor's  character  —  a  good  character  at  the 
start,  high  and  generous,  and  backed  by  a  good  intelli- 
gence, he  thought.  For  all  her  fire,  she  displayed,  by 
and  large,  a  self-control  that  surprised  him,  that  he 
could  admire ;  as,  for  instance,  at  this  moment,  when 
he  knew  it  was  costing  her  a  strong  effort  not  to  lash 
out  in  denunciation  of  the  feeble,  yet  astonishingly 
effective  tyranny  under  which  she  and  Fannie  lived. 
Whatever  it  was  that  contributed  to  withhold  her  — 
pride,  sense  of  humour,  consideration  for  himself,  the 
spirit  of  noblesse  oblige  —  whatever  it  was,  Marshall 
liked  his  niece  for  it.  But  how  much  longer  could  she 
keep  up  this  sort  of  thing,  particularly  when  there 


THE  KETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  121 

was  a  way  out  of  it  —  a  way  that,  worse  luck,  ob- 
viously suited  her?  He  moved  uneasily,  aud  Nellie 
began  to  speak  again. 

''  That  was  rather  funny  this  afternoon,  wasn't  it?  '' 
she  said  with  the  tentative  air  that  Cook  had  grown  to 
recognise  in  mixed  imijatience,  pity  and  amusement. 
"  That  about  the  ice,  I  mean.  Freezing  your  book 
into  a  cake  that  way.'' 

The  author  chuckled  involuntarily.  "  Yes,  that 
was  rather  funny,"  he  admitted. 

"  Mr.  Loring  meant  it  to  be.  He  did  it  for  a  joke, 
of  course  you  know  that.  Uncle  Marshall?" 

"  Yes.     Yes,  indeed !  " 

"  Of  course  he's  never  had  anything  to  do  with  a 
man  like  you  before.  He  —  he  doesn't  know  anything 
about  people  that  write.  I  suppose  he  doesn't  care 
for  books  —  novels.  I  —  I  know  the  other  Mr.  Lor- 
ing doesn't.  Business-men  don't  as  a  rule,"  Nellie 
was  explaining  when  all  at  once  her  own  fluency 
seemed  to  disconcert  her.  "  But  you  know,  anyway 
—  you  know  about  everybody,"  she  ended  suddenly. 

Mr.  Cook  had  no  reply  for  this  compliment ;  during 
the  pause  that  ensued  he  lit  another  cigarette  amid 
certain  panicky  forebodings  which  were  not  without 
foundation,  as  Nellie's  next  remark  proved. 

''  Oh,  Uncle  Marshall,  I  wish  you  would  say  some- 
thing!    You  just  sit  there  and  think! '^ 

"I  —  I  wasn't  thinking,  Eleanor,"  stammered  her 
uncle  guiltily;  and  then  they  both  laughed  con- 
strainedly, yet  it  cleared  the  air  somehow.  The  girl 
went  on  talking  with  more  of  her  natural  freedom 
and  confidence. 

"  I  suppose  you  thought  it  was  dreadful  of  them  — 
of  Mr.  Loring  —  to  go  off  and  leave  that  poor  man 


122  THE  KUDDER 

with  his  sun-stroke.  I  suppose  if  it  had  been  you, 
you  would  have  sent  him  safe  home  in  the  machine." 

Cook  humanely  tried  to  say  what  he  believed  she 
w^anted  him  to  say.  ''  Oh,  I  don't  know,  Nellie.  If 
I  had  been  in  Mr.  Loriug's  place,  I  might  not  have 
felt  myself  called  upon  to  do  any  more  for  What's- 
his-name  —  Devitt  —  either.  Mr.  Loring  had  al- 
ready acted  with  the  best  kind  of  humanity,  the  prac- 
tical, energetic  kind  that  gets  results;  he  may  have 
saved  the  man's  life.  I  daresay  Devitt  didn't  care  to 
be  under  further  obligations  to  him,  for  that  matter. 
The  old  fellow  seemed  to  be  pretty  tough  physically, 
and  was  not  suffering  or  in  danger  any  more.  Oh,  no, 
I  don't  see  anything  especially  ^  dreadful '  about  the 
w^ay  Mr.  Loring  acted.  I  only  hope  if  I'm  ever  in 
trouble,  there'll  be  as  efficient  a  Samaritan  around." 

''  Well,  I  —  I  thought  at  first  it  was  dreadful,  but 
afterwards  I  began  to  see  it  more  your  way,"  said 
Nellie,  in  eager  and  pathetic  relief.  "  Men  seem  to 
be  so  hard  sometimes,  but  then  the  women  go  just  to 
the  other  extreme  —  weak  and  sentimental,  you  know. 
I  —  I  did  want  to  stay  there  and  look  after  him,  but 
I  see  now  it  wouldn't  have  done." 

^'  Lord,  no !  " 

Eleanor  gave  a  slight  sigh  and  settled  back  against 
the  post;  in  spite  of  Cook's  efforts  and  of  her  own 
self-persuasive  arguments,  her  bearing  somehow  did 
not  suggest  satisfaction;  and  he  was  scarcely  sur- 
prised when  she  said  a  little  plaintively :  "  I  wish  I 
could  do  something  for  people,  though.  Uncle  Mar- 
shall. I  mean  I  wish  I  could  have  some  work  among 
people  like  that  — " 

''Woiv!  Here!  Don't  go  to  thinking  that  Mr. 
Devitt  is  one  of  the  class  that  needs  to  be  worked 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  123 

among ! ''  Cook  iuterriipted  in  amused  alarm.  "  That 
would  be  an  awful  mistake.  In  the  first  place,  he's 
an  upright,  intelligent,  self-respecting  man ;  and  sec- 
ondly, speaking  from  a  base,  material  standpoint,  he's 
probably  able  to  buy  and  sell  me  ten  times  over!  I 
told  you  he  had  that  son  at  college.  That  sort  of 
man  is  just  as  much  the  backbone  of  the  country 
as  —  well,  as  our  friend,  the  Ice-King.  You  can't 
patronise  people  like  the  Devitts.  The  next  genera- 
tion will  be  glad  to  marry  'em ! " 

"Oh,  I  —  I  didn't  know,"  said  the  girl,  taken 
aback.  "  He  looked  like  —  I  haven't  had  any  expe- 
rience, of  course.  What  I  meant,  though,  was  that 
I'd  like  to  go  down  town  into  the  real  slums  and 
work  —  Social  Service,  or  something  like  that.  I 
1c7iow  I  could  do  it,  and  I'd  love  to.  I  wouldn't 
patronise  them  either.  Uncle  Marsh,  I'd  just  be 
interested  in  them.  I'm  sure  that's  what  they'd 
like." 

"  That's  the  right  idea,  I  believe,  Nellie,"  said  Cook, 
seriously.  ''  Poor  people,  or  the  '  lower  classes,'  as  w^e 
call  them,  don't  want  to  be  instructed  or  converted  or 
civilised,  I  often  think.  They  want  what  the  Roman 
mob  demanded  a  matter  of  twenty  centuries  ago  — 
bread  and  circuses.  Enough  to  eat  and  a  little 
amusement,  a  little  happiness,  poor  wretches !  "  He 
smoked  thoughtfully  for  half  a  minute.  "  Well,  why 
don't  you  do  that,  then,  if  you  want  to  so  much?  " 

"Aunt  Juliet  is  afraid  for  me  to,"  said  Nellie, 
in  her  most  carefully  expressionless  voice.  "  She's 
afraid  that  if  I  w^ent  down  town  into  those  places, 
among  the  people,  I'd  bring  back  some  horrible  dis- 
ease —  have  it  myself  and  give  it  to  everybody  in  the 
house.     You  see  how  it  is,  Uncle  Marshall." 


124  THE  RUDDER 

Indeed,  Marshall  saw;  columns  of  rlietorie  could 
not  have  made  the  exi^lanation  clearer. 


The  next  morning  came  on  refreshingly  with  less 
heat,  less  dust,  and,  being  Sunday,  less  factory-smoke 
in  the  air.     Contrary- wise,  Mr.  Cook  detected  a  higher 
pressure  and  a  certain  thickening  in  his  domestic  at- 
mosphere, owing,  he  sardonically  conjectured,  to  Sab- 
bath influences,  or  his  own  impending  departure  by 
the  "  Limited  "  that  afternoon.     Fannie  came  down 
to  breakfast,   pale   and  heavy-lidded,   but   conscien- 
tiously cheerful ;  Eleanor's  demeanour  reminded  him 
of  all  the  stock  metaphors  dealing  with  banked  fires, 
volcanoes   temporarily   quiescent,  calms  before   the 
tempest,  charged  weapons  hanging  on  the  trigger;  he 
pictured  himself  as  one  who  smiled  and  smiled  and 
was  a  villain  still ;  but  Juliet  —  Juliet,  Cook  declared 
inwardly,  was  in  magnificent  vein !     She  warned  Fan- 
nie, who  scarcely  touched  a  morsel,  against  the  dan- 
gers of  eating  too  much,  and  getting  any  fleshier;  she 
inquired  of  Nellie  whether  Mr.  Loring  senior  could 
read  and  write,  and  expressed  surprise  at  hearing  that 
he  possessed  those  accomplishments,  knowing  that 
"  self-made  men  of  his  class  were  illiterate  as  a  rule  " ; 
she  was  sympathetically  doubtful  about  the  success  of 
Cook's  latest  work,  with  abundant  assurances  that  it 
was  really  good  in  her  opinion,  no  matter  what  the 
critics  and  people  in  general  said.     Seldom,  in  short, 
had  Mrs.  Maranda  given  a  more  finished  exhibition  of 
her  powers,  armoured  in  innocence  and  unconscious- 
ness. 

"  You  say  you  had  a  bad  night?  "  Cook  commented 
courteously  after  Mrs.  Juliet  had,  in  fact,  said  so, 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  125 

with  minute  detail.  "  Why,  Juliet,  it's  wonderful 
how  naturally  and  easily  you  talk  —  as  if  you  felt  per- 
fectly well!  You  force  yourself  to  it,  of  course.  It 
takes  a  will  of  iron  to  do  that ! ''  said  Marshall  with 
an  admiring  sigh,  avoiding  Eleanor's  arrowy  glance. 

^^  Oh,  I  wasn't  sicky  just  restless  and  nervously  ex- 
hausted, you  know.  I  don't  call  that  anj^thing," 
said  Mrs.  Maranda,  somehow  faintly  uncomfortable. 
She  did  not  know  what  it  was  about  her  brother-in- 
law's  nice-sounding  speeches  that  sometimes  disturbed 
her ;  the  tidy,  insignificant  man  with  his  commonplace 
features,  his  eyeglasses,  his  unimportant  manner,  was 
certainly  not  a  person  to  be  feared,  least  of  all  by 
one  who  had  known  him  for  years,  long  before  he  got 
to  be  so  clever  and  famous  —  as  Mrs.  Maranda  pri- 
vately put  it.  Then  why  — ?  Cook  was  ashamed  of 
himself,  easily  reading  the  vague,  child-like  trouble 
of  her  face.  But  now  Nellie  took  a  hand  with  omi- 
nous amiability. 

*^  Speaking  of  Mr.  Loring  — "  said  she ;  ^'  do  you 
know,  Uncle  Marshall,  something  has  just  dawned 
on  me  too  late,  the  way  things  generally  dawn !  I'm 
afraid  I  must  have  seemed  very  ill-bred  and  snobbish 
to  the  man  Mr.  Loring  called  the  puller ^  do  you  re- 
member?    I  didn't  pay  any  attention  to  him." 

^^  Hey  ?  "  said  Cook,  for  the  moment  unsuspicious. 
He  laughed.  "  Why,  I  don't  know  that  you  needed 
to  pay  any  attention.  It  might  have  embarrassed  him 
a  good  deal,  if  you  had." 

"  What  is  a  puller?  "  Mrs.  Maranda  asked.  Fan- 
nie began  to  look  anxious. 

"  It's  the  man  that  takes  the  cakes  of  ice  out  of 
the  box  they're  frozen  in,"  Nellie  explained,  and  ad- 
dressed her  uncle  again,  earnestly.     ^^  Of  course  you 


126  THE  RUDDER 

didn't  know,  but  I  thoiiglit  he  looked  weirdly  familiar 
somehow,  and  I  was  going  to  speak  to  Mm  only  the 
excitement  about  Mr.  Devitt  put  everything  else  out 
of  my  head."  And  here  she  turned  to  Mrs.  Maranda 
and  spoke  penitently.  "  I'm  so  sorry,  Aunt  Juliet,  I 
don't  know  what  your  family  will  think.  It  w^as  one 
of  the  Morehead  boys,  Tom,  I  think.  You  know  I 
don't  see  any  of  them  for  years  at  a  time,  and  there 
are  so  many  anyhow.  Your  own  nephew,  and  I 
didn't  speak  to  him !     I  am  so  sorry !  " 

After  an  appalling  moment,  Mrs.  Juliet  gathered 
strength  to  say  f reezingly :  "  You  must  be  mistaken, 
Eleanor.'' 

"  Oh,  no.  I  asked  Mr.  Loring  afterwards  as  we 
were  coming  home,  and  he  said  yes,  his  name  was 
Morehead.  The  w^ork  isn't  hard.  Aunt  Juliet;  you 
mustn't  w^orry  about  that,"  said  Miss  Maranda, 
kindly.  "  Mr.  Loring  said  anybody  could  do  it  — 
it  doesn't  take  any  training  or  even  intelligence,  he 
said.  The  machine  does  it  all,  practically.  But  I 
wish  I  had  spoken  to  him.  You'd  like  to  have  him 
come  and  see  you,  wouldn't  you?  " 

"I  —  I  don't  know  Homer's  children  at  all  —  I  — " 
began  poor  Mrs.  Maranda  in  helpless  irritation. 

"  This  young  fellow  didn't  look  more  than  eighteen 
or  so  —  nothing  but  a  boy,"  said  Cook,  with  for  his 
part  the  best  of  intentions.  "  I  suppose  he  took  what- 
ever job  he  could  get,  rather  than  be  idle." 

"  Very  likely,  and  it  does  him  credit ! "  Nellie  as- 
sented cordially.  "  Particularly  as  he  may  not  be 
able  to  read  and  write,  you  know.  I  do  wish  I  had 
spoken  to  him !  However,  he  may  not  have  recog- 
nised me.  And  you  tipped  him  anyhow.  Uncle  Mar- 
shall ;  I  saw  you  giving  him  something  w^hen  Mr.  Lo- 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  127 

ring's  back  was  turned,  so  I  daresay  he  doesn't  resent 
my  behaviour  — " 

"  Nellie,  I  will  not  submit  to  this  I  I  —  I  —  I  will 
not  —  I"  Mrs.  Juliet  stuttered  out,  rustling  up  from 
her  chair  furiously.  "  I  —  you  —  it's  a  deliberate  in- 
sult, it  —  I  —'' 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  Aunt  Juliet?  Don't  you 
like  to  hear  about  your  family?  " 

"  They  are  not  my  family  —  they  are  my  brother's 
family,  they  —  I  — '' 

"  Let's  go  out  and  look  at  the  garden,  Fannie ;  you 
take  me  out  and  show  me  the  garden,"  said  Cook, 
seizing  his  other  niece's  arm  and  propelling  her  off 
the  scene  in  sheer  panic.  And  once  safely  outside 
among  the  roses :  ^^  Woof! ''  he  ejaculated,  and  went 
through  a  pantomime  of  T\iping  his  forehead. 

Fannie  returned  his  grimace  with  a  dismayed  little 
smile.  "  Nell  icill  do  it,  you  know,"  she  said  resign- 
edly. "  It  always  makes  Aunt  Juliet  perfectly  hop- 
jjing.     And  Nellie  enjoys  that,  of  course." 

^^  You  don't,  I  imagine." 

"  No,"  said  Fannie,  shrugging  j^atiently.  "  I'd 
rather  go  along  quietly  without  any  fusses.  But 
Nellie  can't  help  herself  and  Aunt  Juliet  can't  either, 
I  suppose,  so  there  you  are !  " 

Cook  picked  up  a  long-handled  digging-fork,  and 
began  to  prod  about  the  roots  of  the  plants.  ^'  There 
you  are,  Fan,"  he  said  presently.  ^'  The  innocent  by- 
stander always  gets  the  worst  of  it." 

^^  Oh,  no.  Uncle  Marshall,  you're  mistaken ;  /  don't 
ever  have  any  trouble,"  said  Fannie  with  urgent  ear- 
nestness. "  Nellie  never  says  a  word  to  me;  and  you 
know  how  lovely  and  kind  Aunt  Juliet  always  is  to 
me.     She  and  Nellie  just  can't  get  along,  that's  alL 


128  THE  EUDDER 

The  trouble  is,  Aunt  Juliet,  without  meaning  to,  is 
all  the  time  rubbing  Nellie  the  Avrong  way,  somehow. 
And  it's  not  exactly  temper  with  Nell,  either,  as  so 
many  people  think ;  it's  —  it's  —  I  believe  it's  spirit. 
She  can't  stand  being  rubbed  the  wrong  way?  "  Fan- 
nie halted  on  a  questioning  inflection,  and  her  uncle 
nodded,  absently  pecking  at  the  ground.  '^  Nellie 
isn't  a  bit  mean/'  said  the  sister.  Cook  nodded  again. 
'^  She  seems  sometimes  to  get  an  idea  into  her  head 
that  I'm  being  put  upony  somehow.  But  you  know, 
Uncle  Marshall,  that's  nonsensical.  Aunt  Juliet  is 
just  as  good  and  generous  to  both  of  us  as  can  be. 
She's  done  everything  for  us  for  years.  I  don't  see 
how  we  can  ever  return  it,  ever! '' 

Cook  heard  the  note  of  fanaticism  in  her  voice  with 
the  mixture  of  impatience  and  respect  that  fanaticism 
inspires.  Bray  her  in  a  mortar,  and  the  girl  would 
not  abandon  principles  or  practice !  He  sympathised 
with  Eleanor's  view  of  the  waste  and  futility  of  the 
process,  but  on  Fannie's  side  there  was  a  kind  of  un- 
reasonable justice,  too.  And  when  she  said  in  a  mo- 
ment that  she  was  a  little  afraid  the  sun  might  bring 
back  her  headache,  and  moved  to  go  into  the  house, 
Marshall  made  no  effort  to  detain  her,  although  he 
guessed  that  her  real  motive  was  not  anything  so 
trifling  as  the  care  of  her  own  health.  No,  Fannie 
was  going  to  fan  Aunt  Juliet,  to  support  Aunt  Juliet 
with  smelling-salts,  and  iced  drinks,  and  alcohol  rub- 
bings, and  words  of  comfort !     Same  old  thing ! 


CHAPTER  IX 

COOK  continued  liis  aimless  pottering  around 
the  flower-beds,  wondering  in  humorous  res- 
ignation which  one  of  the  women  would  come 
to  him  next.  He  looked  at  his  watch  and  calculated 
that  in  not  more  than  five  hours  the  thrice-blessed 
"  Limited  "  would  be  bearing  him  away  "  East,"  back 
to  work,  to  bachelorhood,  to  another  week-end  in  an- 
other o'arden,  at  the  recollection  of  which  it  may  be 
he  coloured  a  little  and  felt  foolish  and  promptly  ad- 
dressed a  biting  jibe  to  his  inner  self.  At  about  the 
same  time,  as  he  was  leaning  on  his  tool,  idly  staring 
about  the  neat  suburban  yard,  there  came  within  view 
two  gentlemen  approaching  along  the  street,  with  in- 
quiring glances  to  this  side  and  that  as  of  strangers 
in  the  neighbourhood.  They  caught  sight  of  him,  and 
after  a  moment's  inspection  and  some  interchange 
of  words,  crossed,  heading  definitely  in  his  direction. 
Simultaneously,  Cook  recognised  one  of  them  to 
be  the  younger  Devitt.  He  was  not  limping  to-day; 
the  author  noted  the  fact  inquisitively.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  came  on  with  a  vigorous  step  which  suited 
equally  well  his  undeniably  striking  personality. 
Xothing  sickly  or  Byronic  about  him  now ;  very  likely, 
indeed,  those  attributes  had  resided  in  the  academic 
gown  and  mortar-board  in  which  Cook  had  first  seen 
him,  garments  which  have  a  way  of  conferring  dis- 
tinction. But  even  young  Devitt's  present  informal 
dress  which  was  nothing  more  picturesque  than  the 
light  "  sack-suit "  and  straw  hat  of  the  season,  to  be 

129 


130  THE  EUDDER 

seen  by  the  dozens  anywhere  —  even  that  acquired 
character  by  his  carriage ;  more  than  ever  Cook  was 
convinced  that  this  was  not  an  ordinary  young  man. 

He  w^ent  to  meet  them;  and  having  got  up  close: 
"  Mr.  Cook ! ''  said  young  Chauncey  in  his  fine  voice, 
and  took  off  his  hat  with  the  air  of  a  prince  in  dis- 
guise, unconsciously  royal.  Hereupon  the  little  man 
of  letters,  who  looked  like  nobody  in  this  high  pres- 
ence, shook  hands  with  Mr.  Devitt  and  with  Mr.  De- 
vitt's  companion.  "  Know  my  friend,  Mr.  Dalton !  " 
said  Chauncey  sonorously.  Cook  obediently  ex- 
changed salutations  with  the  mental  reservation  that 
he  would  rather  not  know  Mr.  Dalton  any  too  inti- 
mately, although  the  latter  was  a  well-fed,  well- 
dressed,  prosperous-looking  person,  something  in  the 
style  of  Loring  senior,  but  with  much  more  open  and 
engaging  manners.  Why  this  unreasoning  preju- 
dice? Mr.  Cook  himself  might  not  have  been  able  to 
explain  it.  "  I've  met  confidence-men  in  my  time,"  he 
once  remarked  obscurely,  referring  to  this  occasion. 

Devitt  introduced  Cook  himself  as  "  Mr.  Cook,  the 
celebrated  author  " ;  and  Dalton  on  his  side  was  most 
hearty.  '^  Pleased  to  meet  you,  sir!"  he  said,  and 
looked  the  other  over  with  a  pair  of  pale  blue,  very 
rapidly  moving  eyes.  There  occurred  that  slight 
pause,  familiar  enough  to  the  "  celebrated  author,"  in 
w^hich  people  obviously  awaited  some  trenchant  bit 
of  fun  or  wisdom  from  him;  or,  failing  that,  a  majes- 
tic inquiry  as  to  the  object  of  this  visit.  In  fact,  he 
was  wondering  mightily  on  this  last  point,  but  kept  it 
to  himself,  inviting  them  to  seats  in  the  shade  with  a 
joking  word  or  two  of  apology. 

"  A  little  dirt  on  one's  hands  is  a  matter  of  no  con- 
sequence in  our  town,  I  know,  but  if  I  seem  to  have 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE         131 

more  than  my  share,  it's  because  I've  been  grubbing 
around  the  garden  as  you  see." 

"  Regular  farmer,  hey?  "  said  Mr.  Dal  ton  pleas- 
antly. "  They  say  this  here  fellow  that  writes  the 
funny  things  has  a  farm  up  in  Indiana.  I  pretty 
near  laughed  my  head  off  over  that  play  of  his  — 
can't  remember  his  name,  but  you  know  who  I  mean. 
Everybody  knows  Mm.'' 

Young  Devitt  looked  disproportionately  grave  and 
interested.  "Do  you  like  outside  work?"  he  de- 
manded. 

"  Why  not? '' 

"  I  thought  you  wouldn't  want  to  do  anything  but 
write,"  said  Chauncey  with  a  simplicity  that  some- 
how startled  Cook,  it  seemed  so  out  of  keeping  with 
the  young  man's  mature  and  forceful  bearing.  He 
was  used  to  all  sorts  of  personal  questions  and  com- 
ments ;  but  it  was  not  often  that  they  struck  him  with 
such  a  sense  of  incongruity. 

"  Oh,  well,"  he  said  lightly ;  "  you  know  the  profes- 
sions of  letters  and  agriculture  aren't  so  very  differ- 
ent. At  least  they  have  one  quality  in  common ;  both 
require  an  unconquerably  sanguine  temperament. 
Eh?" 

Dal  ton  said  "  Ump?  "  with  a  look  uncomprehend- 
ing and  interested  but  wary,  as  of  one  who  suspected 
he  might  be  Tvdtnessing  some  species  of  conversational 
thimble-rig  game.  Devitt  listened  ^dth  unsmiling  in- 
tentness. 

"  That  is  very  true,"  he  said  impressively,  his  deep 
eyes  fastened  on  Cook's  face.  " '  The  professions  of 
letters  and  agriculture  are  alike  in  requiring  an  un- 
conquerably sanguine  temperament.'  That  is  very 
true,  Mr.  Cook." 


132  THE  KUDDER 

"Is  your  father  feeling  better  this  morning?'' 
asked  the  author,  hastily.     ''  I  hope  so." 

Dalton  spoke  while  young  Chauncey  was  appar- 
ently yet  gathering  himself  for  a  reply.  In  spite  of 
his  unstable  glance,  the  older  man  — in  years  he 
might  almost  have  been  his  companion's  father  — 
was  ready  and  direct  of  speech  and  kind  enough  of 
heart  as  now  appeared. 

"Why,  Mike's  a  lot  better  —  almost  as  good  as 
ever !  "  he  said  warmly.  "  And  say,  Mr.  Cook,  that's 
one  reason  Timmie  here  and  I  come  out  to  see  you. 
The  old  man  wanted  to  thank  you  and  that  lady,  your 
daughter  or  whoever  it  was  —  Mrs.  Maranda,  ain't 
she?  We  found  the  name  in  the  telephone-book  —  he 
wanted  to  thank  you  both  so  bad  that  we  had  all  the 
trouble  in  the  world  to  keep  him  from  getting  up  and 
coming  himself.  Not  that  he's  in  bed,  you  know. 
Lord,  you  couldn't  keep  him  in  led!  But  the  doc 
said  he  had  to  stay  in  the  house,  and  Mike  did  kick 
on  that.  He  felt  so  good  he  didn't  see  why  he 
couldn't  go  along  just  the  same  as  ordinary;  and  he 
wanted  to  see  that  lady.  He  said  his  own  daughter 
couldn't  have  been  kinder  to  him.  So  when  he  found 
what  between  Mrs.  Devitt  and  Doc  McKenna,  and 
the  boy  here  and  I  —  they  got  me  down  to  his  house, 
talking  to  him  like  a  Dutch  uncle !  —  that  he  couldn't 
get  to  go,  why,  nothing  would  do  him  but  we  must 
come  out  and  tell  you  and  her  all  about  it  anyhow." 

Mr.  Dalton  Avould  have  been  surprised  if  he  could 
have  known  the  kind  of  impression  his  plain  recital 
made.  Cook  was  thoroughly  pleased,  touched,  vin- 
dicated. The  nice  old  Irishman!  The  fine,  decent, 
right-feeling  old  fellow ! 

"  Mr.  Devitt  makes  too  much  of  what  we  did  — 


THE  EETUKN  OF  THE  NATIVE  133 

certainly  of  what  /  did/'  lie  said.  "  And  as  for  my 
niece,  I'm  sure  nothing  could  give  her  more  satisfac- 
tion than  to  be  of  some  use  —  to  help  a  little,  you 
know.  Tell  Mr.  Devitt  that  if  he  is  bent  on  thanking 
us,  the  way  he  can  do  it  best  is  by  staying  at  home 
and  getting  well.  We'd  have  been  distressed  if  he 
had  taxed  himself  to  come  out  here  and  — "  At  this 
point  Mr.  Cook,  perceiving  that  neither  one  of  the 
visitors  was  attending,  and  that  both  were  staring 
straight  past  at  somebody  or  something  else,  turned 
his  own  head  in  time  to  see  his  niece  Eleanor  coming 
down  the  steps.  She  stopped  at  sight  of  them,  and 
looked  inquiringly  but  without  hesitating;  all  of 
Eleanor's  movements  exhibited  a  kind  of  prompt  and 
gracious  decision. 

Dalton  jogged  Cook's  elbow.  "  Is  that  her  now?  " 
he  wanted  to  know,  in  a  heavy  undertone. 

^^  That  is  my  niece.     Yes." 

''  Golly !  "  said  Dalton  hoarsely,  gazing  with  all  his 
eves. 

Young  Devitt,  for  his  part,  gazed  too,  but  dumbly. 
Meeting  the  girl,  he  was  more  solemn  and  Dalton 
perhaps  a  thought  more  jovial  than  Avas  natural  to 
either  man,  though  they  could  not  have  been  said  to 
be  ill  at  ease.  Eleanor  herself  heard  their  errand 
Tvith  much  the  same  feeling  as  Cook. 

"  Is  he  better?  Is  he  really  all  right  again?  "  she 
asked,  her  face  flushing  and  brightening  as  she  looked 
from  one  to  the  other.  "  Why,  of  course  he  couldn't 
come  out  here  —  it  would  have  been  dreadful !  And 
I  didn't  do  a  thing  anyhow."  She  turned  to  the  son. 
"  You're  going  to  make  him  take  more  care  of  himself 
after  this,  aren't  you?  Did  he  ever  have  anything 
like  this  before?  " 


134  THE  RUDDER 

"Why,  I  —  er  —  I  don't  know/'  said  Chauncey. 
The  frank  surprise  of  her  expression  seemed  to  em- 
barrass him.  To  Cook's  eye  he  had  the  look  of 
squirming  under  it,  helplessly.  But  Dalton  inter- 
vened readily  —  even  glibly!  —  with  an  explana- 
tion. 

"  Tim  ain't  been  home  much  these  last  three  or  four 
years,"  he  said.  "  He's  been  off  at  college,  and  of 
course  Mrs.  Devitt,  same  as  all  the  rest  of  these  moth- 
ers, she  don't  let  him  know  if  there's  any  trouble  at 
home,  if  she  can  help  it.  You  know  how  that  is,  miss. 
I  believe  Mike's  had  kind  of  dizzy  spells  once  or  twice, 
but  I  guess  it  ain't  anything  so  serious  as  it  looks  — 
just  nerves  going  back  on  him  a  little  now  and  then. 
Mike's  getting  on  towards  sixty  years  old,  and  he 
can't  do  what  he  used  to,  that's  about  the  size  of  it. 
He  ought  to  lay  off  and  let  somebody  else  attend  to 
the  work  and  the  worry.  That's  what  I  tell  him.  I 
can  talk  to  him  pretty  plain ;  he's  known  me  all  my 
life  ever  since  we  was  both  a  lot  younger,  and  he'll 
take  it  from  me.  Trouble  is,  Mike  thinks  there  ain't 
anybody  can  look  after  his  business  but  him.  He 
won't  let  go." 

^^It  will  be  different  now  that  you  are  at  home, 
though,"  Eleanor  said  to  Tim  —  or  Chauncey  —  who 
received  the  intimation  with  an  uncertain  smile. 

"  Sure !  Tim'll  take  right  hold !  "  said  Dalton  with 
prodigious  warmth,  and  slapped  his  companion  on 
the  shoulder  approvingly.  "  Sure  he  will,  ma'am !  I 
don't  know,  though,"  he  added  waggishly ;  "  Tim  may 
get  these  dizzy  spells  himself,  especially  if  any  young 
lady  like  you  happens  to  be  around !  " 

Cook  and  Eleanor  each  executed  a  polite  laugh; 
and  the  young  man,  after  an  instant,  followed  them 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  135 

tentatively.  "I  —  I  believe  I  know  somebody  you 
know/'  he  was  now  emboldened  to  say  to  her. 
"  They're  named  Morehead  —  they  live  across  the 
street  from  us." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  about  the  Moreheads." 
"  As  soon  as  she  heard  the  name,  mv  mother  said 
she  thought  you  must  be  one  of  those  Marandas  they 
talk  about  sometimes  — " 

"You  don't  mean  ^Junk^  Morehead?"  inquired 
Dalton.  "  At  least  that  ain't  his  real  name  but  he 
goes  by  it  mostly  in  the  Thirteenth  Ward.  You  don't 
mean  you  know  himf'^  And  upon  being  answered 
that  this  was  the  case,  his  countenance,  as  he  eyed 
Eleanor,  expressed  his  real  feeling  with  a  freedom 
which.  Cook  privately  opined,  was  seldom  allowed  it. 
Unspeakable  astonishment  looked  from  Mr.  Dalton's 
every  feature.  "  I  guess  you  don't  go  there  very 
often,  all  the  same  I  "  he  hazarded  at  last. 

Sunday  dinner  was  eaten  in  the  middle  of  the  day 
actually;  figuratively,  the  hour  resembled  midnight, 
such  was  the  gloom  emanating  from  Mrs.  Maranda's 
apartment.  Cook  and  Eleanor  sat  at  table  in  x^rofane 
cheerfulness;  but  Fannie  and  the  servant  stole  about 
on  tiptoe  with  lowered  voices,  and  the  former  neg- 
lected her  own  meal  to  speed  upstairs  and  down  T\i.th 
Mrs.  Maranda's  trav,  from  the  room  where  the  in- 
valid  sat  with  her  outraged  feelings  in  a  rebuking 
seclusion.  She  had  not  gone  to  bed,  Fannie  informed 
the  others,  returning  from  one  of  her  flights  in  quest 
of  another  hot  roll  and  a  little  more  of  the  lamb  and 
peas  —  Aunt  Juliet  had  not  gone  to  bed,  but  she  said 
she  wasn't  equal  to  coming  down ;  she  couldn't  take  a 
step. 


136  THE  EUDDER 

"  How  about  you,  Fan?  "  said  her  uncle.  "  Seems 
to  me  you're  taking  a  good  many/' 

"  Oh,  Fni  all  right! ''  said  Fannie,  pallid,  kind,  in- 
domitable. 

A  little  later  Cook  himself  went  up  to  bid  his  sis- 
ter-in-law good-bye.  There  was  the  familiar  obscur- 
ity and  strong  aroma  of  smelling-salts;  and  Mrs.  Ma- 
randa,  from  her  pillowed  chair,  gave  him  a  limp  hand, 
and  murmured,  ''  Marshall ! ''  with  tragic  feebleness. 

''  It's  dreadful  for  your  visit  to  end  this  way.  / 
Jioped  that  this  time  anyhow  — !  But  Eleanor  will 
do  it,  you  know.  I  know  how  men  hate  scenes  like 
that  this  morning  —  I  would  hate  them  myself,  even 
if  they  didn't  break  me  down  so.  A  man's  home 
ought  to  be  lovely  and  peaceful.  I'm  sure  I  would 
always  do  everything  to  make  it  so  here  for  you.  I 
often  tell  Eleanor  that  — but  nothing  does  any  good. 
And  I  was  feeling  so  bright  and  well  and  happy  this 
morning !  I  can't  understand  her,  Marshall ;  I  don't 
think  she  is  wilfully  cruel  —  I  always  tell  her  I  for- 
give her  the  things  she  says,  because  I  cannot  believe 
she  is  wholly  responsible  at  such  times  — " 

"Er  —  yes.  That's  very  noble  of  you,  Juliet  — 
shows  so  much  discernment,  too!  Er  —  what  did 
Eleanor  say,  though?" 

"  Oh,  Marshall,  I  can't  repeat  it ;  I  can't  tell  you  — 
I  hardly  know  myself,  only  that  it  was  terriUe!  I'm 
all  shocked  and  unstrung  —  it's  so  bad  for  me  — my 
neurasthenia,  you  know  — " 

"  Are  you  in  pain?     Hadn't  we  better  send  for  the 

doct— ?" 

"No,  no!^^  Mrs.  Maranda  interrupted  crisply, 
starting  up.  "  I  don't  ivant  the  doctor.  I  can  bear 
it,  and  Fannie  knows  exactly  what  to  do  for  me  —  of 


THE  EETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  137 

course  she's  not  as  good  as  a  trained  nurse,  but  she 
does  very  well.  I  ivotrt  have  the  doctor."  She  sank 
back.  ^'  Don't  be  anxious  about  me,  Marshall/'  she 
adjured  him  with  wan  earnestness;  "  I'm  not  sick/^ 

"  No.  As  long  as  you  are  able  to  eat  a  little,  it's  a 
good  sign/'  said  her  brother-in-law  in  a  reassured 
voice,  glancing  at  the  emptied  tray.  "  I'll  try  not  to 
be  anxious.  Only  you  see  I  don't  quite  know  what's 
been  the  matter — " 

"Oh,  goodness,  Marshall,  it's  this  terrible  shock; 
I  told  you  that  before !  "  Mrs.  Juliet  said,  not  without 
sharpness.  "  Nellie  shocked  me  terribly ^  talking  the 
way  she  did !  " 

"  Um  —  yes.     But  what  did  she  say?  ^' 

He  felt  penitently  as  if  he  had  been  something  of  a 
brute,  when  poor  Mrs.  Juliet  broke  into  hysterical  in- 
coherencies ;  also  he  wondered  if  he  might  not  be  mak- 
ing matters  worse,  and  what  would  happen  among  the 
women  after  he  had  gone?  It  did  not  seem  as  if 
things  could  possibly  keep  on  this  way ;  yet,  after  all, 
how  many,  many  times  had  this  happened ! 

"  I  c-can't  tell  you  — you  know  how  Nellie  can 
talk !  "  the  other  sniffed  stormily.  "  You  can  hardly 
ever  lay  a  finger  on  i^liat  Nellie  says.  She  lashed  me 
with  a  tv-icJiip.  I  told  her  that.  I  s-said  to  her, 
^Eleanor,  you're  lashing  me  with  a  w-toJiip!' 
Wouldn't  you  have  thought  that  would  have  stopped 
her  if  she  had  any  heart?  But  she  only  laughed  and 
said  that  was  true,  she  had  m-made  a  m-mistake;  she 
ought  to  have  taken  a  s-slipperl"  Mrs.  Maranda 
gobbed  out  fiercely. 

Cook  coughed.  "  I'll  —  er-h-hem !  I'll  speak  to 
Nellie  —  h-hem-hem! '"'  he  said,  rising. 

"  It  won't  do  any  good,  Marshall  —  Nellie  doesn't 


138  THE  RUDDER 

love  me !  I  don't  know  why  she  never  has  loved  me ! '' 
The  last  thing  he  heard  as  he  went  downstairs  was 
Mrs.  Maranda  calling  Fannie  to  rub  her  hands  and 
arms  with  alcohol  — "  it  may  soothe  me  a  little.'' 

Eleanor  came  to  him  with  almost  the  same  words 
as  the  older  lady.  "  It's  all  horrid,  Uncle  Marsh. 
It's  horrid  to  have  it  happen  while  you're  here.  Oth- 
erwise I  don't  care !  "  she  declared  frankly. 

"  I  wish  you'd  try  to  get  along  with  her,  Nell.  It 
takes  self-control,  but  you  could  do  it." 

"  Like  Fannie,  you  mean  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  mean  like  Fannie,"  said  Cook.  '^  1  en- 
tirely agree  with  you  that  Fannie's  idea  is  a  perfectly 
senseless  self-abnegation,  and  that  it's  exasperating 
to  witness.  But  do  you  think  you  make  it  any  easier 
for  Fannie  by  this  sort  of  thing?  " 

"  She  would  he  the  same,  and  do  the  same  anyhow. 
I  can't  make  it  any  different  for  Fannie  one  way  or 
the  other,"  retorted  the  girl,  with  truth,  as  Cook 
knew.  Nellie  spoke  calmly;  she  was  not  given  to 
tears  and  hysterics.  Her  manner  towards  him  was 
without  feminine  appeal;  she  was  like  a  boy  in  her 
spirit  of  angry  fairness,  her  sense  of  equality- 
^'  Let's  be  plain,  Uncle  Marshall.  You  talk  to  me 
about  self-control  and  consideration  for  Fannie,  and 
all  the  while  you  know  that  the  only  person  in  the 
house  who  has  no  self-control  and  no  consideration 
for  anybody  else  is  Aunt  Juliet.  Why  don't  you  talk 
to  herf  Because  it's  hopeless.  Because  she  couldn't 
understand.  She'd  only  cry  and  think  you  were 
mean,  or  in  a  bad  temper  or  something.  It's  ridicu- 
lous that  the  rest  of  us,  just  because  we  can  under- 
stand and  have  some  kind  of  an  intelligence  and  some 
kind  of  a  conscience,  should  have  to  give  in  to  that 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE         139 

poor,  dull,  vain,  selfish,  feeble  creature,  who  wants  to 
be  told  all  the  time  how  fine  and  sweet  and  lovely  and 
wonderful  she  is — " 

"  Well !  /  tell  her  I  That's  what  /  do ! ''  Cook  in- 
terjected. 

Eleanor  eyed  him,  refusing  to  answer  his  grin. 
"Yes,  you  do.  But  do  you  always  think  that's 
nice?  "  she  asked  acutely.  "  Those  smooth  speeches 
that  the  poor  thing  swallows  down  whole,  while  you 
are  laughing  in  your  sleeve  at  her  —  do  you  think 
that's  nice?  '' 

"  Why,  no,  Nellie,''  her  uncle  admitted.  "  It's  not 
in  the  least  nice.  I  rather  think  it's  something  no 
gentleman  should  do.  But  if  she  doesn't  know^  she's 
no  worse  off.  And  I  can't  get  through  without  some 
recreation ! "  he  finished,  rubbing  one  hand  up  the 
back  of  his  head,  plaintively  comic. 

"  Well,  /  can't  do  it,  Uncle  Marshall  —  I  get  too 
angry.  And  besides,  the  fun  wears  off,"  said  Nellie, 
still  seriously.  "  She  gets  to  be  too  tiresome  ^ith 
her  cheap,  ostentatious,  slip-shod  sentimentalism,  her 
pitiful,  unconscious  hypocrisy.  All  that  childish 
bawling  and  sulking  is  just  because  of  the  Moreheads. 
She's  ashamed  of  them.     It's  contemptible  — !  " 

"Oh,  come  now,  Eleanor!"  said  Cook  chuckling 
irrepressibly.  "  Anybody  would  be  ashamed  of  the 
Moreheads.  ^Jiinh'^'  he  quoted,  wagging  his  head. 
"  You  can't  blame  her  for  wanting  to  keep  Junk  in  the 
background." 

"  I'm  not  blaming  her  for  being  ashamed  of  them," 
the  girl  said.  ''  Fd  be  ashamed  of  them,  too,  but  I'd 
be  honest  about  it.  I  wouldn't  make  a  parade  of  how 
good  I  was  to  them,  and  take  other  people's  praise  for 
it,  and  fool  myself  with  a  lot  of  saintly  talk.     I  think 


140  THE  KUDDER 

that's  shoddy.  I'd  say  flat  out  that  I  couldn't  stand 
'em,  and  I  wouldn't  tell  anybody  about  what  I  did  for 
them.  Why,  you  would  too,  you  know  you  w^ould !  '^ 
she  added  rather  ambiguously. 

"  Maybe  I  would,"  said  Cook,  also  ambiguously. 
He  began  to  assemble  his  travelling  gear,  w^hile  she 
looked  on  sombrely. 

"  YouVe  escaped^  Uncle  Marshall,"  she  said,  after 
a  moment.  "  A  man  can  alw^ays  escape.  It's  harder 
for  a  woman.  Look  at  me!  If  I  could  get  aw^ay  for 
only  a  little  while  every  day,  I  could  stand  it  the  rest 
of  the  time.  But  I  can't  even  do  that !  I'm  not  al- 
low^ed  to  work.  I'm  not  supposed  to  do  anything  but 
sit  at  home  and  be  a  young  lady,  and  sing  Aunt 
Juliet's  praises  by  the  hour.  Oh,  I  know  I'm  not  so 
terribly  badly  off;  plenty  of  girls  would  enyj  me.  I 
don't  want  to  make  mountains  out  of  molehills. 
But  what  am  I  to  do  f  '^ 

The  little  man  straightened  up  from  the  valise  he 
was  locking,  all  the  jocularity  gone  out  of  his  face; 
and  it  was  with  gravity  and  feeling  that  he  did  what 
he  was  seldom  known  to  do  uninvited  —  that  is,  he 
made  a  short  speech,  containing  a  certain  amount  of 
advice. 

"  Whatever  you  do,  Eleanor,"  he  said,  '^  don't  do 
it  in  too  much  haste.  Young  people  don't  know  how 
long  life  is.  I  often  think  there  would  be  a  deal 
less  suffering  and  trouble  in  the  world,  if  we  could 
all  be  brought  to  realise  the  eternal  quality  of  our 
acts.  The  thing  we  do,  we  do  not  once,  for  to-day, 
for  this  one  time,  but  forever  and  forever,  and  we've 
got  to  lie  down  and  get  up  with  it  the  rest  of  our  lives. 
Even  going  slow,  even  using  our  best  judgment, 
things  don't  always  turn  out  right.     But  the  dilemma 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE         141 

is  that  we  can't  drift  along.  We've  got  to  make  de- 
cisions. We've  each  got  a  rudder,  and  we  must  steer 
ourselves  with  it  the  best  way  we  can.  That's  what 
I  tried  to  tell  those  college-boys  the  other  day.  I 
don't  know  how  clear  I  was  about  it,  or  whether  I'm 
making  myself  clear  to  you  now.  You  said  just  now 
that  it  was  harder  for  a  woman  than  for  a  man.  I 
doubt  that.  I  think  there  comes  to  everybody,  men 
and  women  alike,  a  time  when  they  feel  they've  got  to 
—  to  take  the  boat  in  charge  —  to  lay  a  course  and 
stick  to  it,  you  know.  And  there're  always  so  many 
courses!  So  I'll  say  to  you  by  w^ay  of  keeping  up 
this  highly  original  metaphor,"  he  rounded  off,  more 
lightly ;  ^^  don't  go  off  on  the  wrong  tack !  And  don't 
get  in  a  hurry,  and  pile  on  too  much  sail !  Here 
endeth  the  lesson!     Shake  foot,  eh?     That's  right!" 


CHAPTER  X 

NOT  long  before  the  day  in  the  earliest  'nine- 
ties when  Mr.  Marshall  Cook,  to  use  his  own 
figure  of  speech,  adjusted  his  rudder  to  an- 
other course,  packed  wp  his  manuscripts  and  cleared 
for  New  York  —  not  more  than  a  year  or  so  before 
that  event,  Miss  Eliza  Grace  was  j)resented  to  the 
society  of  her  native  city,  at  a  formal  entertainment, 
given  by  her  grandmother  on  the  3"oung  lady's  nine- 
teenth birthday.  It  was  the  handsomest  party  of  that 
season;  everybody  went;  there  were  wagon-loads  of 
flowers,  barrels  of  champagne-punch,  incalculable 
yards  of  new  frocks.  The  debutante's  grandmother 
wore  all  her  well-known  diamonds;  the  debutante 
herself  was  dressed  with  priceless  Parisian  simplicity ; 
and,  possessing  a  doll-like  regularity  of  feature  set 
off  by  a  doll's  pink-and-white-ness  of  complexion,  and 
a  full  crop  of  flaxen  hair  in  corresponding  style,  made, 
it  is  to  be  hoped,  a  most  pleasing  impression.  Except 
for  the  ordinary  greetings,  to  perform  which  does  not 
require  a  high  degi^ee  of  intelligence  and  may  be 
drilled  into  almost  anybody.  Miss  Grace  was  not  ob- 
served to  open  her  mouth  the  whole  evening,  not  even 
to  laugh;  though  it  was  reported  upon  the  best  au- 
thority that  she  cried  herself  to  sleep  in  her  beauti- 
ful blue  and  rose  and  ivory-white  Watteau  bed-room, 
after  it  was  all  over. 

She  was  the  only  grandchild  —  the  only  remaining 
descendant,  in  fact!  —  of  the  late  Andrew  J.  Grace 

142 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE         143 

of  the  Gracetown  Tool  \yorks,  a  pioneer  in  that  in- 
dustry at  which  he  amassed  a  great  fortune.  Bessie 
got  it  all ;  even  the  widowed  grandmother's  share,  it- 
self of  splendid  proportions,  was  practically  hers  al- 
ready. The  girl  did  not  want  it;  she  did  not  want 
any  of  the  money;  she  wanted  her  grandfather  of 
Avhom  she  had  always  been  very  fond.  She  refused 
desperately  up  to  the  end  to  believe  that  he  could  be 
taken  from  her,  and  when  the  blow  fell  at  last,  sat 
under  it  in  a  tortured  dumbness  that  alarmed  those 
nearest  her,  and  caused  others  to  remark  on  the  stol- 
idity of  her  disposition.  Bessie  was  fifteen  when  this 
happened ;  af terAvards  Mrs.  Grace  took  her  to  Europe, 
and  for  four  or  five  years  they  lived  liberally  here  and 
there,  saw  the  old  world  at  ease,  and  liked  it  better 
than  their  own,  ^^  in  some  ways/^  as  citizens  of  this 
Republic  have  the  habit  of  saying.  Mrs.  Grace  her- 
self voiced  their  opinions  in  a  speech  frequently 
quoted  in  her  circle  after  she  brought  her  little  blonde 
heiress  home  again,  upon  the  latter's  coming  of  age. 
"  Oh,  yes,  it's  all  very  finished,  very  charming,  very 
nice  in  some  icays^  but  I  prefer  a  country  where  the 
average  unmarried  man  is  rather  afraid  of  a  rich 
girl ! " 

Gossip  intimated  that  Mrs.  Grace  got  what  she  pre- 
ferred in  full  measure.  Whether  the  money,  with  its 
inevitable  suggestion  of  extravagance  and  self-indul- 
gence, frightened  away  the  average  independent- 
spirited  bachelor  of  their  acquaintance,  or  whether 
something  in  the  girl  herself  discouraged  them,  money 
or  no  money,  was  not  clearly  understood,  but  as  a 
matter  of  fact.  Miss  Eliza  Grace  was  not  a  success  in 
society  —  judged  by  the  standard  of  popularity  with 
the  other  sex,  that  is.     Nobody  ever  paid  her  signifi- 


144  THE  RUDDER 

cant  '^  attention."  She  was  sliy,  or  dull,  or  sullen  or 
taciturn,  it  was  not  certain  which,  but  there  was  no 
explaining  her  quiet  ways,  her  few  words,  her  rare 
laughter  except  on  one  or  other  of  these  hypotheses. 
The  young  fellows  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  her ; 
she  never  tried  to  entertain  them,  and  as  for  starting 
a  flirtation,  one  would  as  soon  have  expected  it  from 
the  bisque  shepherdess  on  the  mantelpiece,  which  she 
resembled.  On  the  other  hand  they  got  on  well 
enough  with  her  grandmother,  who,  at  sixty,  offered 
a  shining  example  of  the  woman  of  the  world  with 
the  best  that  that  implies  of  mannerliness  and  spright- 
liness  and  amiable  sophistication.  Mrs.  Grace  had 
been  pretty,  too,  in  the  same  style  as  Bessie,  small, 
and  neatly  turned,  but  with  the  opposite  colouring. 
^^My  hair  was  black  —  quite  shiny  black,"  she  told 
one  gentleman  who  was  commenting  on  the  likeness. 
"  I  looked  like  a  china  doll  while  Bessie  looks  like  a 
wax  one  —  eh?  Never  mind!"  she  added  coolly,  as 
he  began  some  embarrassed  protestations.  "  Why  not 
a  dollF  To  be  sure,  it's  a  drawback.  People  at  first 
naturally  conclude  that  you  haven't  any  sense.  Later 
they  find  out  that  you  have,  and  there  is  nothing  more 
agreeable  than  an  agreeable  disappointment  —  eh?" 
So  all  the  young  men  went  to  the  house  and  made 
duty  calls,  and  sent  duty  bouquets,  and  danced  duty 
dances  that  first  season,  and  there  was  the  proper  ex- 
change of  entertainments  back  and  forth,  and  gossip 
generously  allowed  that  Mrs.  Grace  had  done  every- 
thing in  the  world  for  her  granddaughter,  and  if  the 
girl  couldn't  get  anywhere  socially  with  all  that  back- 
ing, it  was  manifestly  her  own  fault,  and  the  case 
was  hopeless.  Well,  then,  Bessie  didn't  get  any- 
where ;  perhaps  she  did  not  care  about  it ;  perhaps  her 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE         145 

appearance  of  indifference  was  pure  bluff;  no  one 
could  say.  Her  second  winter  ^'  out "  must  have 
seemed  as  flat  and  uneventful  from  a  young  woman's 
standpoint  as  if  she  had  been  fifty  years  old  and  per- 
manently laid  on  the  shelf.  As  time  went  on,  and 
from  a  ^'  bud  "  she  gradually  grew  to  be  classed  among 
the  "  old  girls  '' —  both  of  which  graphic  terms  are 
borrowed  from  the  Society  Jottings  column  in  the 
Sunday  Observer  —  Miss  Grace  withdrew  more  and 
more  from  the  public  eye.  At  that,  she  did  not  take 
to  art,  or  to  kindergarten  work,  or  Social  Service,  or 
the  Woman's  Club,  or  to  any  of  the  approved  chan- 
nels for  an  "  old  girl's  ''  activities ;  her  tastes  were  as 
queer  and  unnatural  in  those  as  in  other  directions. 
She  travelled  a  good  deal;  she  collected  old  china; 
she  had  a  wonderful  garden  at  the  North  Hill  place, 
and  another  down  on  Long  Island  where  they  had  a 
country  house;  and  bye  and  bye  she  and  her  grand- 
mother, to  the  puzzled  surprise  of  their  society, 
seemed  to  have  made,  by  hook  or  crook,  an  extended 
acquaintance  amongst  people  of  note  such  as  mu- 
sicians, actors,  playwrights  and  the  like,  and  would 
forever  be  entertaining  some  celebrity  at  one  or  other 
home.  "  That's  one  of  the  things  that  money  some- 
times brings  to  people,"  was  Mrs.  Juliet  Maranda's 
explanation.  "  Geniuses  are  human ;  they're  just  as 
fond  of  creature  comforts  as  the  rest  of  us,  and  vnll 
go  where  they  can  get  them.  I  ought  to  know  some- 
thing about  geniuses;  I've  lived  in  the  house  with 
one  I " 

This  brings  us  back  deviously  to  Mr.  Cook,  the 
young  author  —  he  teas  young  in  those  days,  some- 
where about  twenty -nine  or  thirty  —  whose  Times 
and  Tides  came  out  the  same  year  with  Bessie  Grace, 


U6  THE  EUDDER 

but  contrariwise  made  a  gratifying  sensation.  Mar- 
shall went  to  the  Grace  party ;  he  went  to  all  the  par- 
ties that  winter  in  the  first  high  hat  and  white  waist- 
coat and  made-to-order  eyening-clothes  he  had  ever 
owned  in  his  life,  a  circumstance  which,  together  with 
the  other  circumstance  that  he  was  mistaken  two  or 
three  times  for  the  caterer's  head- waiter,  occasioned 
him  much  sardonic  amusement.  He  knew  all  the 
men,  but  very  few  women,  setting  aside  the  conscien- 
tious hostesses  who  sent  him  cards,  because  of  his 
family,  and  because  they  were  ^^  inviting  everybody 
anyhow,  you  know."  It  was  not  until  a  much  later 
date  that  they  began  to  be  interested  in  him  more 
personally.  For  that  matter,  to  ladies  in  their  posi- 
tion a  young  man  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a 
pair  of  legs  that  can  dance ;  and  as  Marshall  was  con- 
spicuously unable  to  do  that,  he  could  not  be  con- 
sidered an  asset.  He  used  to  roam  about  unob- 
trusively watching  and  listening  and  sometimes  in- 
deed looking  rather  wistfully  at  the  pretty  girls,  to 
whom  he  could  easily  have  got  an  introduction,  if  he 
could  have  persuaded  himself  that  they  would  care 
to  know  him.  He  liked  women  and  believed  that, 
given  the  chance,  he  understood  them;  but  not  these 
bright,  fluttering  creatures.  So  he  continued  to 
roam,  and  in  the  course  of  it,  one  evening  came  upon 
Miss  Grace,  sitting  by  herself,  apparently  forgotten 
by  everybody  as  usual,  and  as  usual  apparently  care- 
less of  that  fact.  She  recognised  him  with  an  un- 
smiling little  nod;  and  upon  that  Cook  was  inspired 
by  sheer  curiosity  to  go  and  sit  down  by  her. 

Miss  Grace  looked  at  him  with  her  expressionless 
blue  eyes,  and  said  in  a  clear,  rather  high  voice,  also 


THE  EETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE         147 

of   (loll-isli   suggestion :     ^'  What  made   you   so   sur- 
prised wlieu  I  knew  you?  " 

Marsliall  was  more  than  surprised  at  this  piece  of 
discernment;  he  was  thunder-struck;  coming  from 
her,  of  all  people  in  the  world,  the  effect  was  almost 
uncanny.  "  I  almost  always  am  surprised  when  any- 
body remembers  me,''  he  said  honestly.  "  I  look  so  \ 
much  like  everybody  else  —  lil^e  ten  thousand  other 
men,  at  any  rate.'' 

The  girl  examined  his  face  seriously,  but  did  not 
make  the  obvious  rejoinder,  the  rejoinder  nine  girls 
out  of  ten  would  have  made ;  she  said  nothing,  and  it 
came  into  Cook's  head,  characteristically  enough,  to 
speak  to  her  with  absolute  straightforwardness,  and, 
as  he  put  it  inwardly,  ^'  see  w^hat  would  happen  " ! 

"  Do  you  like  parties?  "  he  asked. 

"Like  this?  No,"  said  Miss  Grace.  "That's  not 
because  I'm  intellectual  or  anything  of  that  sort.  I 
don't  like  them  because  I  don't  like  them,  that's  all. 
Like  not  liking  chocolate  nougat,  you  know\" 

"  I  see.  Some  other  kind  of  amusement,  maybe — ? 
The  opera,  or  — ?  " 

"  Yes.  Only  people  are  always  wanting  to  take  me 
to  Mda  and  I  don't  want  to  go  to  Mda.  I  want 
to  see  Human  Hearts  and  Lottie ,  the  Poor  Bales- 
lady.  I  think — "  she  stopped  suddenly,  and  Mar- 
shall read  a  certain  anxiety  in  the  immobile  face 
she  turned  toward  him ;  but  under  his  humorous,  com- 
prehending eyes,  something  new  came  to  life  there. 
Like  others,  perhaps  she  felt  the  reassuring  and  sym- 
pathising touch  of  his  interest,  that,  because  it  was 
genuine,  never  failed  of  its  effect. 

''The  Queen  of  the  Opium  Ring  is  a  very  good 


148  THE  RUDDER 

one,  too,"  he  said  as  tliey  both  began  to  smile.  "  Tell 
me  something  else  you'd  like/' 

"  You  don't  mind,  Mr.  Cook?  I  do  feel  impelled  to, 
somehow,"  said  Bessie,  naively.  "  Well,  then,  I'd 
like  to  go  to  the  beer-gardens  on  the  hill-tops  and 
drink  beer  and  eat  green  onions  and  bread  and  cheese. 
I'd  like  to  go  on  the  river  in  a  shanty -boat,  and  to  the 
Police  Station,  and  to  Latonia  to  the  races.  I'd  like 
to  go  behind  the  scenes  on  the  stage,  and  I'd  just  as 
lief  see  a  fight,  and  I'd  like  to  talk  to  Salvation  Army 
people,  and  I  wish  I  could  know  a  cabman,  or  an  all- 
night  lunch-stand  man,  or  some  boot-blacks  and  horse- 
jockeys  and  policemen  — " 

"  Wait  a  minute !  "  Cook  interrupted  her.  "  Do 
you  want  to  go  around  to  all  those  places  by  your- 
self?   Is  that  it?  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  said  Miss  Grace,  taking 
thought ;  "  at  least,  I  don't  mean  going  in  a  party,  you 
know.  Anybody  can  do  that.  People  often  do  that. 
That's  just  slumming  —  it's  stereotyped.  Yes,  I  sup- 
pose I  want  to  go  by  myself.  Of  course,  if  I  were  a 
man,  I  would.  You  do.  That's  how  you  find  out 
so  much." 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  it's  not  so  much  fun  as  you  think  go- 
ing around  by  oneself.  Miss  Grace,"  said  the  young 
fellow,  betraying  his  loneliness  for  once  —  and  to  this 
flaxen-haired,  insiiDid-looking  little  thing !  He  pulled 
up,  stunned  by  w^hat  he  had  discovered  both  in  him- 
self and  her. 

Bessie  nodded  briskly.  "  It's  not  an  adventure  to 
you.  It's  all  in  the  day's  work.  Well,  I  believe  I 
envy  that,  too.  Now  tell  me  about  yourself.  What 
would  you  like  to  do  best?  " 

"  I  think  I'd  like  to  take  you  around  to  some  of  the 


TUE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  149 

places  jou've  been  talking  about  —  not  to  the  lurid 
ones  — Police  Court,  you  know —  I'm  afraid  that 
wouldn't  do.  I  don't  know  whether  it  would  do  at 
all  for  me  to  take  you  anyhow,"  said  Cook,  in  some 
confusion.     "  But  that's  what  I'd  like." 

The  pretty  pink  and  white  mask  turned  towards 
him  again,  lifeless  as  at  first.  ^^Oh!"  said  Miss 
Grace.  All  at  once  a  bright,  impenetrable  coolness 
enveloped  her;  she  was  like  some  fairy-tale  heroine 
touched  by  unkind  magic  to  an  icicle,  to  a  diamond, 
before  his  eyes.  "  You  are  very  kind.  Thank  you !  " 
she  said,  rising.  And  Cook  bowed  himself  away  in 
a  hurry  before  she  could  complete  the  dismissal  by 
turning  her  back  on  him,  which  was  what  her  manner 
led  one  to  expect! 

He  walked  off  not  so  much  hurt  as  perplexed,  won- 
dering if  she  received  or  rather  repelled  other  men's 
impulsive  friendliness  in  the  same  fashion.  "  Prob- 
ably not.  Probably  the  individual  counts!"  said 
Marshall  to  himself,  in  his  sharp  but  lenient  w^ay. 
"Heaven  knows  I'm  nothing  much  to  look  at,  and 
of  no  importance  otherwise  to  a  young  lady !  Maybe 
I  was  a  little  fresh  with  my  offers,  too.  She  scarcely 
knows  me,  and  — "  and  here  he  halted,  a  new  guess 
dyeing  his  face  crimson.  "Oh,—  !"  said  Mr.  Cook, 
in  dreadful  profanity,  jamming  his  hat  down  upon 
his  brows  with  a  fierce  movement.  ''  That's  what  she 
thinks,  does  she?  Me!  I'll  show  her!"  He  made 
savage  resolutions  never  to  go  near  Miss  Eliza  Grace 
again. 

In  the  meantime,  going  home  in  their  carriage,  Mrs. 
Grace  was  saying  to  her  granddaughter :     "  Who  was 
the  man  I  saw  you  talking  to  just  after  supper?  " 
"  That  was  a  Mr.  Cook." 


150  THE  KUDDER 

"Cook?  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  Mm  now  —  one  of 
that  old  Cook  family.  Yes,  that's  who  he  is/'  said 
the  older  lady,  after  consideration.  "  Nice  people. 
He's  connected  someway  with  Mrs.  Frank  Maranda, 
too ;  she's  a  very  lovely  woman,  they  say.  He  writes, 
doesn't  he?  Somebody  told  me  he  wrote.  Is  he 
nice?" 

"  Oh,  quite  too  nice,"  said  Miss  Grace,  in  a  tone 
which  her  elder  must  have  recognised  unfavourably, 
for  she  uttered  an  impatient  ejaculation. 

"  '  Quite  too  nice,'  "  she  echoed.  "  I  suppose  the 
poor  harmless  young  fellow  asked  you  if  he  might 
call,  eh?  "  And,  as  the  girl  made  an  assenting  sound, 
Mrs.  Andrew  Grace's  own  small  ordinarily  impassive 
features  twitched ;  she  spoke  in  a  sort  of  affectionate 
vexation.  "  Bessie,  I've  told  you  over  and  over  again 
that  American  men  are  safe.  We  don't  have  fortune- 
hunters  here.  Of  course  I'm  only  your  grandmother, 
and  you  know  a  great  deal  more  than  I  do,  neverthe- 
less I  happen  to  be  quite  sure  of  what  I'm  talking 
about  in  this  instance.  You  must  stop  thinking  those 
things.  To  begin  with,  they're  really  sordid,  and  — 
and  small-minded.  You  don't  want  to  be  that,  I 
hope.     You  must  stop  it." 

"  Very  well,  grandma,  I'll  try,"  said  Bessie,  without 
interest.  "  He  did  seem  rather  nice  at  first.  Then 
I  thought  he  was  getting  like  the  rest  of  them.  He 
wanted  —  he  said  — "  she  shrugged  amongst  her  furs 
and  velvets,  and  was  silent. 

Mrs.  Grace  w^as  far  too  astute  —  china-doll  exterior 
and  all !  —  to  inquire  further  as  to  what  he  had 
w^anted  or  said.  She  was  sorry  for  the  young  man, 
sorry  for  her  granddaughter,  in  whom  she  felt  some- 
thing more   serious   than   the   familiar   exaggerated 


THE  RETUKN  OF  THE  NxVTIVE  151 

cynicism  and  melanclioly  of  nineteen.  ''  I  begin  to 
wish  I  had  never  taken  you  abroad,  Bessie,"  she  said 
presently.  ''  I  thought  it  would  be  a  fine  thing  — 
travel  —  art  —  languages  —  all  that.  But  over  there 
it's  so  different;  a  girl  gets  the  wrong  point  of  view. 
It's  a  mistake  for  Americans  —  some  Americans  any- 
how —  to  start  their  young  people  in  that  society.  Of 
course  there  are  adventurers  and  harpies  everywhere, 
but  —  I  can't  understand  why  you  don't  see  the  dif- 
ference in  our  men !  "  she  exclaimed  almost  testily. 
"  You're  clever  enough,  and  you've  had  enough  expe- 
rience." 

Possibly  this  last  was  true,  and  Miss  Grace  may 
have  had  enough  experience  in  one  direction  to  have 
instructed  even  a  dull  girl ;  but  if  there  were  any 
needv  members  of  the  Enoiish  or  continental  nobilitv 
and  gentry  in  her  backgi^ound,  any  flashy  Komeos  and 
Captain  Rooks,  she  never  revealed  them.  She  went 
her  way;  and  now  discovered  with  what  feelings  who 
can  say  that  it  led  her  into  Mr.  Cook's  at  every  turn. 
Neither  of  them  had  noticed  it  before ;  but  it  seemed 
as  if  they  were  forever  running  into  each  other. 
They  knew  the  same  people,  they  were  asked  on  the 
same  occasions,  more  than  once  they  were  paired  at 
dinners  and  theatre  parties  —  in  short,  as  the  gentle- 
man vowed  to  himself,  it  looked  as  if  the  very  devil 
was  in  it!  He  could  not  have  avoided  her  if  he  had 
wanted  to,  and  in  a  little  while  Marshall  began  dis- 
mally to  suspect  that  he  did  not  want  to !  Besides, 
after  a  time,  Bessie  herself  ceased  to  evade  him;  she 
became  altogether  frank,  friendly,  delightful.  She 
never  bored  him  about  his  writing;  she  had  identical 
tastes ;  she  even  laughed  with  his  own  relish  over  the 
same  sort  of  jokes;  sink  her  money  —  and  poor  Mar- 


152  THE  KUDDER 

shall  would  have  given  worlds  to  sink  it  to  the  bottom 
of  the  sea  —  and  there  could  not  have  been  found  a 
couple  better  matched. 

Mr.  Cook's  character  and  code  of  morals,  if  not 
quite  flawless,  were  of  a  fibre  to  keep  him  from  letting 
slip  the  slightest  hint  of  all  this  to  Miss  Grace,  or  to 
anybody.  He  knew  their  world,  and  had  not  prac- 
tised telling  it  stories  for  nothing.  The  young  lady, 
whatever  she  felt,  was  not  less  sophisticated. 
Though  she  took  Marshall's  violets  and  whimsical 
verses,  and  had  him  out  to  dinner,  and  went  with  him 
to  a  score  of  places,  yes,  even  to  the  beer-gardens  and 
melodramas  of  that  first  interview  —  though  they 
were,  undoubtedly,  seen  very  often  together,  there 
was  never  any  talk  about  them.  They  liked  each 
other  so  openly  that  it  discouraged  rumour;  not  to 
mention  the  fact  that  Bessie  Grace,  for  all  her  money, 
and  Marshall  Cook,  for  all  his  talent,  were  both  pro- 
foundly uninteresting  persons  to  society  at  large. 
Next  year  Cook  went  away;  he  went  to  New  York, 
and  his  city  knew  him  no  more ;  Miss  Grace  embarked 
on  those  eccentric  courses  which  have  already  been 
outlined;  and  we  may  presume  the  romance  —  so  to 
call  it  —  died  a  natural  death,  since  fifteen  years 
after,  though  still  single,  they  were  still  the  best  of 
friends. 

The  Grace  house  on  Long  Island  was  a  most  beau- 
tiful and  correct  piece  of  colonial  architecture,  de- 
signed by  one  of  the  leading  men  of  the  day.  Prom- 
inent authorities  commented  on  the  pure  antique 
^^  feeling  "  of  its  roof-line  and  chimneys,  on  the  abso- 
lute propriety  of  its  setting,  walks,  arbours,  groves, 
terraces  and  so  forth,  which  likewise  had  been  laid 
out  by  a  landscape  artist  of  renown,  on  the  frugal 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE         153 

and  unconscious  elegance  of  its  furnishings  breath- 
ing the  forefathers'  own  spirit,  for  which  Miss  Grace 
herself  was  mainly  responsible.  She  used  to  quote 
some  of  the  opinions  with  unappreciative  laughter, 
out  of  a  bound  volume  of  foolscap  Avherein  she  wrote 
them  down  —  "  Half-Minutes  with  Great  Talkers  '' 
was  lettered  in  gilt  on  the  cover.  "Grace  before 
meat !  "  Cook  said  whenever  she  sat  down  to  the  en- 
joyment of  this  collection  of  banalities. 

"  Take  care,  you're  in  here,  too ! "  retorted  Bessie. 
''Cooked  meat^  eh?"  For  some  reason  she  never 
would  let  him  have  more  than  a  glimpse  at  a  page 
here  and  there,  in  spite  of  their  intimacy.  During 
the  part  of  the  year  that  they  spent  at  "  Eversofar," 
Cook  came  and  went  much  more  often  than  he  or  they 
realised;  the  house  was  frequented  by  so  many  of 
kindred  professions,  people  that  sang,  people  that 
painted,  people  that  played  every  instrument  in  the 
orchestra,  floating  or  stranded  members  of  upper- 
class  Bohemia.  "  I  seem  to  be  meeting  you  here  all 
the  time!"  Walter  Stevens  the  illustrator  said  to 
Cook  one  day. 

''  I  was  just  about  to  say  that  to  you !  "  grinned  the 
little  man.  " '  'Tis  but  a  tent  where  takes  (as  often 
as  he  can)  his  rest,'  a  writer  to  the  publishers  ad- 
dressed — !  " 

Miss  Grace  and  her  grandmother  started  off  rather 
suddenly  to  Europe  the  summer  that  Cook  went  out 
to  the  commencement  exercises  at  Cambridge  Col- 
lege. They  were  gone  by  the  time  he  got  back  to  New 
York,  so  Marshall  missed  his  week-end  in  the  coun- 
try, and  set  himself  to  work  in  a  lonesome  and  unwar- 
rantably resentful  mood.  However,  Bessie  got  and 
answered  his  letters ;  she  urged  him  to  "  drop  every- 


154  THE  RUDDER 

thing  and  run  over  for  a  breathing-spell."  They  ex- 
pected to  be  in  Switzerland  in  August.  Couldn't  he? 
He  had  to  write  briefly  that  he  was  too  busy. 

"  It's  this  play,  you  know,"  Bessie  said,  reading  out 
occasional  passages  to  Mrs.  Grace,  as  they  sat  on  the 
balcony  outside  their  hotel  windows. 

"  I  thought  the  censor,  or  the  morality -man,  or 
whoever  he  is,  had  forbidden  it,"  said  the  other  lady, 
yawning. 

"  It's  not  the  same  one.  That  was  One  Night  in 
Ycnice.  I  don't  suppose  he'll  get  that  put  on.^ 
This  is  Dcnjs  Like  These  —  altogether  different." 

"  Much  better  choice  of  a  title,  anyway.  Days 
seem  somehow  more  dependable  than  nights,"  Mrs. 
Grace  drawled. 

It  was  October  when  they  landed  at  the  West  Street 
docks ;  and  they  got  their  baggage  through,  and  went 
np  town  with  the  maids  and  trunks  and  cabs  and  set- 
tled themselves  at  the  hotel,  without  sight  or  word 
of  Mr.  Cook,  although  that  gentleman  could  ordinar- 
ily be  counted  on  to  meet  them  and  make  himself  use- 
ful. It  was  one  of  the  few  ways  in  Avhich  he  could 
get  even  with  them  for  their  endless  and  most 
gracious  hospitality,  Marshall  told  himself.  There 
were  no  flowers,  no  bon-bons,  no  notes,  no  telephone 
messages.  He  must  be  very  busy  indeed.  The  play 
had  opened;  Days  Like  These  stared  from  all  the 
hoardings,  and  at  night  winked  electrically  above  the 
sidewalk  of  Broadway;  on  sending  around  for  seats 
they  found  the  house  sold  two  weeks  ahead.     "  I  hope 

1  She  was  mistaken.  Not  only  bas  it  since  been  put  on,  but  as 
all  the  world  knows,  it  bas  bad  a  prodigious  run  everywhere, 
and  as  a  moral  rectifier  is  classed  witb  Damaged  Goods  and  other 
pieces  every  young  person,  boy  or  girl,  in  the  country  should  see. 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE  155 

he'll  have  a  few  more  days  like  these !  "  said  Bessie 
epigrammatically ;  "  he  must  be  making  something 
out  of  it  at  this  rate !  "  Whatever  she  thought  of  his 
silence  and  defection,  she  gave  no  sign ;  indeed,  being 
at  thirtj-five  as  inanimate  of  feature,  and  almost  as 
smooth  and  i^ink  and  white  and  flaxen  as  ever,  it  was 
still  difficult  to  associate  her  with  such  a  process  as 
thinking  under  any  circumstances. 

Next  evening  at  dinner,  Mr.  Cook  turned  up,  with- 
out warning,  in  morning-dress  —  he  who  was  so  fas- 
tidious about  his  appearance !  —  and  looking  so  worn 
and  worried  that  both  ladies  exclaimed  with  concern. 
"  I  couldn't  get  here  —  couldn't  take  time  to  write 
even  —  couldn't  do  anything  —  but  I  knew  you  would 
understand,''  he  said.  And  then,  seeing  that  they  did 
not  in  the  least  understand,  exclaimed  in  his  turn : 
^^  Why,  didn't  you  knoiv?  You  Jcneic^  didn't  you? 
You  saw  it  all  in  the  papers?  Good  Heavens,  I 
thought  of  course  you  would  know  I  " 

They  had  not  noticed  the  papers.  Marshall  made  a 
gesture  of  weary  amusement. 

"  You  must  be  the  only  people  in  New  York,  in  the 
United  States,  in  the  whole  universe  that  don't  know, 
I  think !  "  said  he.  ^'  Every  man,  woman  and  child 
that  I  have  ever  met,  and  some  that  I  haven't,  has  had 
something  to  say  to  me  about  it !  "  He  spoke  to 
Bessie.  "  You  remember  my  writing  to  you  last  sum- 
mer about  my  niece?  About  this  love-affair  she  was 
having?  Well  —  I "  He  made  another  gesture. 
*^  She's  gone  and  done  it !  " 

^''  What!  '^  cried  out  the  other  two  in  concert. 

"  Yes.  She's  married  him.  They  are  married. 
You  know  how  I  felt  about  it."  He  paused.  ^'  I  have 
no  business  bothering  you  with  all  this.     My  private 


156  THE  RUDDER 

affairs  —  that  is,  if  anybody  were  allowed  to  have  any 
private  affairs  nowadays  — !  " 

''  You  can't,  at  least.  Not  in  your  position,  I  sup- 
pose," said  Miss  Grace.  "  But  it  doesn't  bother  us  at 
all  —  we  do  understand,  now  that  we  know  —  only 
you  must  tell  us  some  more.  I  don't  see  why  the 
papers  —  when  did  it  happen?  " 

"  Tuesday  —  Wednesday  —  don't  ask  me !  I  got 
the  telegram  —  it  was  the  letter  kind,  you  know  — 
two  or  three  nights  ago  at  dinner.  A  bolt  out  of  a 
clear  sky  —  I  hadn't  any  idea,  though  I  daresay  I 
should  have  had  —  I  ought  to  have  been  ready  for 
it.  Actually  I  don't  know  whether  they  had  just  had 
it  done  —  whether  it  was  just  over  —  the  wedding, 
you  know  — " 

"  Yes.  Mercy,  don't  speak  of  it  as  if  it  had  been  an 
operation  for  appendicitis !  " 

Cook  laughed.  "  I'm  flustered  still,"  he  said,  be- 
srinnin":  to  recover  his  natural  manner.  "  But  it's 
nothing  —  not  a  patch  —  not  a  circumstance  to  what 
I  was  when  this  telegram  arrived  saying  they  were 
coming  on  — " 

Mrs.  and  Miss  Grace  ejaculated  again.  ^' What? 
Coming  on?     They're  heref 

He  shook  his  head.  "  Not  now.  They  left  this 
afternoon.  But  they  were  here  for  three  days.  That 
accounts  for  me,  doesn't  it?"  Cook  cast  a  ruefully 
comic  glance  down  over  himself.  "  It  never  occurred 
to  me  that  you  might  not  have  seen  the  papers.  Of 
course  the  home  ones  were  full  of  it  — '  Elopement  in 
Smart  Set!  Amzi  Loring  Two,  Amateur  Baseball 
Champion  and  All  Around  Athlete  —  Miss  Eleanor 
Maranda,  Most  Beautiful  Girl  in  Society,  Niece 
of  the  Distinguished   Novelist   and   Playwright — '! 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE         157 

That's  where  /  get  on,  as  my  nephew  Amzi  would 
say.  The  minute  the  papers  here  found  out  about 
the  relationship  —  you  can  imagine !  " 

^^  Was  it  an  elopement?  " 

"  You  may  call  it  that.  They  went  across  the  river 
to  a  'squire  in  Covington  and  he  '  tied  the  knot/  as 
the  reporters  have  been  saying.  Eleanor's  an  Epis- 
copalian, too!  They  didn't  want  a  regulation  wed- 
ding, it  seems.  At  least,  he  didn't,  and  that  was 
enough  for  Eleanor.  She  may  have  had  reasons  of 
her  own  besides  —  didn't  want  any  family  fuss,  very, 
likely,"  Cook  said,  thinking  of  his  sister-in-law. 
'^  She  knew  what  /  thought.  I  remember  preaching 
her  an  idiotic  sermon  about  not  doing  anything  rash 
and  all  that;  of  course  she  knew  what  I  had  in  mind. 
Still  she  might  have  known  I  wouldn't  have  inter- 
fered. They're  both  of  age  anyhow,  so  why  the 
'squire  and  why  Kentucky?  They  could  have  got- 
ten themselves  quietly  married  at  home  by  a  clergy- 
man. However,  it's  clone  now  and  can't  be  undone !  " 
He  spread  one  hand  in  a  movement  expressive  of  de- 
feat and  finality.  "  I  really  have  no  business  to  come 
here  and  bother  you  with  this,"  he  said  again  apolo- 
getically. 

"Don't  be  absurd  and  considerately^  Bessie  ad- 
jured him  with  great  freedom.  "  Besides  I'm  a  per- 
fect puddle  of  vulgar  curiosity.  I'm  a  living  interro- 
gation-mark. I  wouldn't  be  human  and  a  woman, 
otherwise.     What  did  old  Mr.  Loring  say?" 

"  Nothing  so  far.  For  that  matter  there  isn't  any- 
thing to  say.  He  couldn't  make  any  reasonable  ob- 
jection to  Eleanor  any  more  than  I  could  think  up 
anything  reasonable  against  his  son.  That's  one  of 
the  things  that  make  it  all  tragically  silly.     I  wrote 


158  THE  EUDDER 

to  him;  as  the  only  man  in  Eleanor's  family,  I 
thought  I  ought  to  do  that,  though  I  hadn't  the  least 
notion  what  to  say.  The  letter  was  all  vague  refer- 
ences to  ^  youth  must  be  served '  and  so  on.  No  doubt 
he'll  write  me  back  a  plain  man's  letter,  temperate 
and  sensible,  that  will  put  my  cheap  devices  to 
shame —  ^Marshall  Cook,  Esquire:  Dear  Sir; 
Yours  of  the  seventh  inst.  rec'd  and  contents  duly 
noted  — '  "  He  began  to  laugh  again,  interrupting 
himself  as  before  deprecatingly.  "  Do  forgive  me ! 
I  can't  seem  to  stop  talking  about  it.  There  hasn't 
been  time  yet  to  hear  from  him.  I  haven't  had  time 
for  anything  myself." 

Mrs.  Grace  surveyed  him.  "  Marshall  Cook,"  she 
said  with  solemnity ;  ^'  am  I  to  be  disappointed  in  you 
after  all  these  years?  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that 
you've  been  dogging  the  young  people  around  for  two 
or  three  days  when  all  they  wanted  in  the  world  was 
to  be  left  alone?  And  you  pretend  to  know  all  about 
it  —  to  TVTite  love-stories  —  reprehensible  ones  at 
that!    What  have  you  been  thinking  of — ?" 

'^  Think  f  cried  out  Cook;  ^^  I  haven't  had  a 
thought  in  my  head  for  three  days!  How  does  one 
think?  What  is  the  process?  I've  forgotten  how. 
No,  don't  laugh  either,  all  this  hasn't  been  so  very 
funny ! "  he  went  on,  his  own  smile  giving  place  to 
an  expression  almost  melancholy.  "  It's  not  funny," 
he  reiterated.  "  I've  been  with  them  all  the  time,  but 
not  of  my  own  desire,  you  may  take  my  word  for  it. 
It  was  Eleanor.  She  wanted  me.  Perhaps  I  seemed 
to  her  to  supply  some  element  of  conventionality  — 
regularity  —  social  sanction  —  I  don't  know  what. 
After  the  'squire,  you  know,  and  all  this  nightmare  of 
publicity.     Perhaps  to  her  mind  I  rescued  the  sit- 


TUE  FiETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE         159 

nation  from  being  ^common' — poor  Eleanor  I"  lie 
sighed  unatfectedly.  ''  She  stopped  me  from  giving 
her  a  wedding-present  —  that  is,  she  wouldn't  take 
anything  —  wouldn't  let  me  get  her  anything.  But 
we  passed  a  bird-fancier's  place  one  day,  where  they 
had  all  kinds  of  pet  animals  for  sale,  and  she  took  a 
fancy  to  an  Angora  kitten  that  was  in  the  window, 
so  I  insisted  on  going  in  and  buying  it  for  her.  She 
actually  cried  a  little  —  I  don't  know  why!  It's  a 
honeymoon!  Do  you  know  she  hadn't  any  wedding- 
ring,  even?  The  State  doesn't  require  one,  it  seems. 
Amzi  bought  one  for  her  after  they  got  here.  It 
doesn't  seem  the  same  thing  to  me,  and  I'm  sure  it 
doesn't  to  her,  but  she  pretends  to  be  satisfied,  any- 
how. He  made  fun  of  it  himself,  but  he  did  get  it  for 
her;  he's  in  love  with  her  after  his  fashion.  We've 
been  going  around  incessantly  looking  at  automobiles 
all  morning,  and  to  the  ball-game  every  afternoon. 
There's  a  World's  Series  being  played,  or  about  to  be 
played  that  he's  deeply  interested  in.  At  night  we 
went  to  '  musical  shows  ' —  that's  the  proper  term, 
you  know  — "  Cook  shook  his  head.  "  It's  a  honey- 
moon !  " 


PAKT  TWO 
THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR 


CHAPTER  I 

NOWADAYS,  those  of  us  who  frequent  lecture- 
courses  are  likely  to  hear  at  any  time  from 
the  official  in  charge  of  the  entertainment 
that  the  name  of  T.  Chauncey  Devitt  needs  no  intro- 
duction to  the  American  public;  in  spite  of  which 
fact,  the  gentleman  invariably  is  introduced  with 
some  outlay  of  flourishing  phrases.  And,  after  sev- 
eral stirring  rounds  of  applause,  he  begins  in  his  usual 
impressive  style  his  address  entitled,  "  The  Worth 
of  an  Ideal,"  or  perhaps  that  other  one :  "  The  Mak- 
ing of  a  Soul '' ;  or,  again,  it  may  be :  ^'  The  Price  of 
a  Man,''  "  The  Value  of  an  Opportunity,"  "  The  Pass- 
ing of  an  Illusion,"  etc.  Some  of  the  lectures  — 
w^hich  have  had  a  vast  success  —  have  been  brought 
out  lately  in  book  form  by  the  author  with  a  preface  in 
which  he  states  that  they  are  the  fruit  of  five  years^ 
exhaustive  study  of  governmental  questions,  political 
economy,  sociology,  ethics  and  religion.  It  has  been 
ignorantly  or  perhaps  maliciously  suggested  that  to 
master  any  single  one  of  these  subjects  would  require 
the  whole  five  years,  if  not  more,  of  any  ordinary  mor- 
tal's time  and  labour ;  but  that  only  goes  to  prove  that 
Mr.  Devitt  is  not  ordinary.  He  is,  indeed,  hors  con- 
cours  as  regards  both  capacity  and  achievement;  for 
besides  giving  a  half-decade  of  his  short  life  —  he  can- 
not be  much  over  thirty  at  this  writing  —  to  the  pur- 
suit and   dissemination   of   knowledge,   as   just   de- 

163 


164  THE  RUDDER 

scribed,  lie  lias  always  taken  an  active  interest  in  all 
the  large  issues  of  the  day.  Initiative,  Referendum, 
and  Recall,  the  Single  Tax,  Prohibition,  Equal  Suf- 
frage, Organised  Labor  —  he  has  lent  his  eloquence 
and  his  i^rofound  store  of  information  to  the  support 
of  all  of  them.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  warmth,  the 
scope  and  catholicity  of  his  convictions ;  as  the  daily 
press  has  remarked,  ^'  Devitt  is  right  there  with  the 
noise  every  time !  " —  a  piece  of  that  vulgar  and  sim- 
ple levity  which  all  our  great  men  must  learn  to  en- 
dure. 

T.  Chauncey  endures  it,  for  his  part,  unruffled;  he 
gives  the  impression  that  it  is  surprisingly  easy  to 
be  a  great  man ;  and  moreover  he  was  firmly  resolved 
on  being  one  from  the  beginning,  from  the  first  mo- 
ment that  his  mind  could  grasp  the  idea  of  a  future  at 
all.  Yes,  twenty -odd  years  ago,  when  he  was  little 
Tim  Devitt  —  nobody  dreamed  of  calling  him  Chaun- 
cey in  those  days  —  a  boy  playing  around  the  rail- 
road-tracks and  elevators  and  lumber-yards  of  the 
East  End,  diving  off  the  coal-barges  and  learning  to 
swim  and  manceuvi^e  a  john-boat  among  the  muddy 
currents  of  the  Ohio,  running  errands  to  the  corner 
grocery  for  his  mother,  and  fetching  a  can  of  beer 
from  the  saloon  now  and  then  for  his  father,  going  to 
school  and  plaguing  the  life  out  of  the  motormen  and 
train-hands  by  risking  his  own  in  sudden  hair-rais- 
ing excursions  onto  the  tracks  in  front  of  their  trol- 
ley-cars and  locomotives  —  all  the  while  young  Tim 
was  conducting  himself  thus,  to  outward  seeming  no 
whit  different  from  the  commonplace  lads  his  com- 
panions, he  was  secretly  absorbed  in  contemplation  of 
his  coming  greatness.  He  fixed  no  date  for  it;  he 
never  consciously  worked  towards  it;  yet  the  boy  was 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  165 

as  confident  of  future  eminence  as  of  sunrise  on  the 
morrow.  How  or  for  what  he  would  become  cele- 
brated was  a  mere  detail ;  the  vision,  at  once  hazy  and 
brilliant,  revealed  nothing  clearly  or  definitely  but 
himself,  sujireme,  dramatic,  in  the  centre  of  the  stage, 
the  focus  of  applause.  Possibly  the  scholastic  dis- 
tinction which  entered  into  his  expectations  when- 
ever he  chanced  to  think  of  it  like  every  other  sort  of 
distinction,  was  the  one  he  cared  least  about,  though 
he  was  fond  of  reading,  had  a  facile  memory,  and  was 
by  way  of  being  a  fjrize  pupil  in  all  his  classes.  If 
anything,  what  he  looked  forward  to  specifically  was 
leadership  among  men,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
he  never  arrived  at  any  kind  of  leadership  among 
boys.  Indeed,  so  far  from  being  the  chieftain  of  a 
^^  gang,"  he  never  even  belonged  to  one;  secret  con- 
claves, dens  and  rendezvous,  signs  and  pass-words  — 
from  all  these  familiar  fooleries  he  was  somehow  ex- 
cluded. Whatever  gift,  whether  that  of  inspiring 
fear  or  admiration  or  simply  a  devoted  unreasoning 
adherence,  qualifies  a  boy  to  lead,  or  to  take  part  in 
councils,  his  fellows  must  have  decided  that  Tim 
lacked  it.  Perhaps  he  was  not  well  enough  liked  or 
well  enough  disliked;  perhaps  he  was  not  considered 
at  all,  one  way  or  the  other.  At  any  rate,  obscurity 
and  unimportance  were  his  portion,  like  that  of  many 
another  prophet  amongst  his  own  peoi^le.  The  com- 
rades of  Mr.  Devitt's  youth  should  regret  their  unap- 
preciative  blindness  now ;  yet,  to  the  mind  of  one  ob- 
server at  least,  there  is  something  formidably  shrewd, 
cold  and  trustworthy  about  the  collective  judgment 
of  boys.  What  becomes  of  it  as  they  grow  into  men, 
is  another  of  the  mysteries  of  human  development. 
If  Tim  was  aware  of  his  detachment,  it  only  served 


166  THE  EUDDER 

to  confirm  his  dreams.  He  read  about  Caesar,  Na- 
poleon, Lord  Byron,  George  Washington,  and  sundry 
other  historical  personages,  not  to  mention  scores  of 
heroes  of  romantic  fiction,  and  perceiving  that  one  and 
all  had  dwelt  —  more  or  less  —  in  splendid  isolation, 
marked  from  the  cradle  for  the  loneliness  of  glory, 
unhesitatingly  set  himself  in  their  company.  Al- 
though, putting  success  aside,  they  seldom  had  much 
in  common,  and  were  men  of  widely  differing  charac- 
ters and  careers,  Tim  could  discern  a  striking  resem- 
blance between  himself  and  every  one  of  them!  It 
was  extraordinary.  Perhaps  he  heightened  it  by  a 
diligent  imitation  of  each  succeeding  one,  as  he  con- 
ceived that  hero  to  have  been  in  appearance  and  man- 
ner as  fast  as  he  made  their  acquaintance  through 
the  public  library,  of  which  he  was  the  steadiest 
patron  known.  Master  Timothy's  literary  tastes,  and 
his  impressive  rendition  of  his  various  roles  filled  his 
parents  with  a  happy  wonder  and  admiration  and  ex- 
pectation. They  themselves  had  no  idea  of  being 
anybody  but  Michael  Devitt  and  Norah  Devitt  his 
wife,  she  that  was  Norah  McCarthy,  plain  decent  peo- 
ple, and  their  own  performances  in  the  reading  line 
never  got  beyond  the  daily  newspaper  and  the  Cath- 
olic Messenger. 

"  Sure,  the  boy  reads  a  book  off  in  the  turn  of  your 
hand ;  it's  no  more  to  him  than  eating  down  a  dish  of 
stir-about,  he's  that  quick.  He  gets  through  the  big- 
gest ones  they  have  in  two  days.  I  don't  know  is  it 
safe  for  him,  he's  so  young  and  all,"  his  mother  would 
say,  her  pride  flimsily  disguised  as  anxiety.  ^'  It 
seems  like  it's  not  in  nature  for  anybody  to  be  so 
bright  at  his  age  —  fourteen  his  last  birthday.  But 
w^e  can't  hold  him  —  his  father  nor  I,  we  can't  hold 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  167 

him.  And  wlien  all's  said,  tlie  learning  comes  as 
easy  as  easy  to  him.  'Tis  not  as  if  Tim  had  to  work 
hard.  That's  what  all  his  teachers  do  be  telling  me 
Avhiles  I  get  to  worrying.  *  Leave  the  boy  alone,  Mrs. 
Devitt,'  they  says.  '  There's  no  saying  how  far  he'll 
go,  and  that  kind  has  to  be  let  go  their  own  ways. 
You'd  ought  to  be  proud  of  your  son,  'stead  of  fussing  j 
over  him/  they  says.  '  Well,'  I  says,  '  I  ain't  proud. 
For  what  should  /  be  boasting?  'Twas  the  Lord 
above  done  it,  not  me.  Praise  be ! '  "  And  here,  very 
likely,  the  mother  would  cross  herself  with  tears  in 
her  eyes,  while  the  shawl-headed  neighbour  to  whom 
she  had  confided  all  this  as  they  met  over  the  sink 
in  the  tenement-house  hallway  would  nod  and  cluck, 
and  call  on  the  heavenly  powers  in  her  turn  with 
words  of  congratulation  and  sympathy.  "  God  be 
good  to  us,  it's  God's  truth  ye're  telling,  Mrs.  Devitt. 
The  boy's  a  fine  boy  entirely.  We'll  be  hearing  of 
him  one  of  these  days,  mark  my  words !  " 

There  was  a  time  in  his  life,  during  his  college 
years,  and  at  about  the  date  when  the  "  Chauncey  " 
was  introduced  into  his  name,  when  young  Tim  found 
it  convenient  to  forget  these  tenement-house  days,  and 
was  not  over-enthusiastic  about  presenting  the  elder 
Devitts  in  the  society  to  which  he  himself  aspired. 
He  has  gotten  all  over  this  diffidence  now;  he  ac- 
knowledges without  any  false  shame  that  he  is  a  self- 
made  man,  sprung  from  the  people  —  the  common 
people.  Nothing  so  exalted  as  a  tenement-house 
sheltered  his  birth  and  boyhood;  it  was  a  shanty! 
And  he  will  talk  willingly  and  copiously  about  his 
early  trials,  struggles,  privations,  about  the  paternal 
dinner-pail,  the  maternal  washboard,  his  own  bare 
feet  and  frequently  empty  stomach.     He  no  longer 


1G8  THE  EUDDER 

sliuns  the  mention  of  Michael  and  Norah ;  on  the  con- 
trary he  brings  in  their  names  as  often  as  may  be, 
with  a  break  in  his  magnificent  voice.  "  Father ! 
Mother!  Are  there  words  in  our  language  —  in  any 
language  —  more  beautiful  than  those?"  he  says.  I 
myself  have  heard  him  say  it,  though  Avhether  in  a 
lecture  on  governmental  questions,  or  on  political 
economy,  or  sociology,  or  religion  or  ethics,  for  the 
soul  of  me,  I  can't  remember.  It  is  very  touching, 
though;  and  you  respect  him  for  the  regret  he  un- 
affectedly expresses  that  his  own  father  and  mother, 
after  having  done  what  they  could  for  him,  which 
you  gather  was  pathetically  little,  have  passed  be- 
yond the  reach  of  his  gi-ateful  affection.  He  had 
hoped  some  day  to  repay  them,  to  give  them  a  secure 
and  comfortable  old  age —  "But,''  he  says  with 
solemn  resignation ;  "  that  was  not  to  be !  " 

It  has  been  intimated,  however,  that  Mike  Devitt, 
besides  being  astounded  beyond  measure,  would  not 
have  been  best  pleased  had  any  such  reports  as  the 
above  concerning  himself  and  his  family  and  his  cir- 
cumstances been  circulated  during  his  lifetime. 
Michael  came  out  from  the  old  country  about  the  year 
eighteen-seventy -seven ;  and  to  be  sure  he  was  nothing 
but  a  green  young  Irishman  without  much  in  the  way 
of  either  money  or  education,  but  tolerably  well 
equipi3ed,  on  the  other  hand,  with  pluck,  ambition  and 
common-sense.  At  first  he  swung  a  pick  in  the 
ditches,  and  bellowed  curses  at  his  team  of  mules,  and 
said  "  sir  "  to  the  boss,  and  doubtless  did  live  in  a 
shanty,  or  in  any  kind  of  a  bunk-house  with  the  rest 
of  his  gang  of  day-labourers.  But  that  was  all  over 
by  the  time  he  fetched  Norah  McCarthy  out  from 
Sligo,  and  they  were  married  and  set  up  housekeep- 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  1G9 

ing  in  the  two  rooms  over  the  bakery  at  the  corner 
of  Pearl  and  Miami  Streets.     Shanty,  forsooth!     It 
may  not  have  been  a  palace,  but  it  was  anything  but 
a   shanty,    whatever   their   son's   recollection   of   it. 
Norah  kept  it  as  neat  as  a  new  pin;  with  only  one 
child  to  look  after,  she  had  abundant  leisure  as  their 
neighbours  pointed  out,  and  moreover  Mike  was  the 
best  of  men  about  the  house.     He  never  raised  a  hand 
to  her,  or  came  home  drunk  in  his  life.     They  lived 
well,  and  put  by  a  penny,  too.     Yes,  Michael  Devitt 
would  have  made  it  painfully  lively  for  anybody  who 
suggested  then  or  at  any  other  time  that  his  wife  had 
ever  had  to  wash  any  shirts  but  her  own  man's,  or 
that  his  son  ever  went  barefoot  and  hungry.     And  as 
to  providing  for  his  old  age,  I  believe  he  did  that  him- 
self, on  a  modest  scale ;  T.  Chauncey  is  said  to  draw 
something  of  an  income  still  from  his  father's  estate, 
enough  to  keep  him  at  ease.     That  was  the  main  end 
and  object  of  all  the  old  people's  work  and  thrift  and 
prayers.     "  We'll  make  our  Timmie  a  gentleman,  or 
know  the  reason  why ! "  Norah  used  to  say ;  and  one 
hopes  that  the  honest  couple  are  taking  their  long 
rest,  satisfied. 

The  first  fifteen  years  of  Tim's  life  witnessed  sev- 
eral changes  of  residence,  each  registering  a  step  up- 
ward in  the  Devitt  style  of  living,  along  with  their 
increasing  prosperity ;  but  it  w^as  not  until  he  was  in 
his  second  year  at  high  school,  and  there  began  to  be 
talk  of  Cambridge  College,  that  Tim's  mother  all  at 
once  found  the  East  End  a  highly  undesirable  locality 
in  which  to  make  a  home  and  bring  up  a  family.  It 
was  noisy,  it  was  dirty,  it  was  dangerous  with  so 
many  railroads  and  roughs,  it  was  too  near  the 
Piyer—     "And  that's  a  true  word,  anyhow!     The 


170  THE  EUDDER 

river's  a  bad  neighbour,  the  kind  tliat's  forever  run- 
ning in !  "  Mike  agreed  witli  a  laugli.  So  they  shook 
the  dust  of  Pearl  Street  and  its  en\drons  from  their 
feet,  and  went  and  took  a  house  —  a  house  this  time, 
mind  you!  No  more  tenements  for  Mrs.  Michael 
Devitt !  —  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  city,  on  Poplar, 
near  the  foot  of  the  Incline,  in  a  much  more  refined 
neighbourhood  where  there  were  a  good  many  board- 
ing and  rooming  establishments  populated  by  medi- 
cal students,  dressmakers,  dej)artment-store  clerks 
and  so  on,  and  a  saloon  only  about  every  two  blocks. 
The  house  was  a  two-story  brick  with  a  bath-room  and 
side-yard;  and  what  with  that  and  her  parlour  all 
newly  furnished  in  golden  oak  and  lace  curtains,  and 
a  lady  to  come  in  and  help  with  the  cleaning  once  a 
week,  and  Mike  making  money  hand  over  fist  at  the 
road-contracting,  and  young  Tim  carrying  off  prize 
after  prize  at  school,  and  herself  having  a  dress  or 
hat  for  the  asking  —  what  with  all  this,  her  old  East 
End  friends  reported  that  ISTorah  Devitt  got  that  stuck 
up,  she  never  came  to  see  them  any  more,  or  had  so 
much  as  a  word  you'd  throw  at  a  dog  whenever  they 
met!  But  Mike  now  —  nobody  had  anything  to  say 
against  him!  He  was  always  easy  as  an  old  shoe  and 
never  forgot  any  one,  in  spite  of  his  good  luck,  and 
his  rise  in  life. 

"  Luck,  is  it?  Well,  ye  may  call  it  that,  but  I  spell 
it  w-o-r-k ! "  he  sometimes  responded  good-naturedly 
and  sensibly.  "  Of  course,  IVe  got  a  pull.  Oh,  yes, 
it's  a  grand  pull  I've  got  with  two  friends  of  mine  that 
I  can  always  count  on.  One  of  'em's  Mister  Right 
Hand,  and  the  other's  Mister  Left !  " 

^'  It's  not  so  much  them  two,  as  it  is  Mister  Head 
on    your    shoulders,    Micky,''    one    of    his    friends 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAB  171 

retorted.  "  That's  where  you've  got  the  bulge. 
There's  plenty  of  men  come  out  here  the  same  time 
as  you  did,  and  started  the  same  way,  and  look  at  'em ! 
Look  at  'em!  They're  just  where  they  were,  and 
they'll  never  get  any  further.  Why,  I'll  bet  you've 
got  some  of  'em  working  for  you  this  minute." 

^'  Sure  I  have  that !  "  said  Michael,  rather  ruefully. 
"  Not  so  many  —  one  or  two  —  but  'tis  enough !  The 
boys  ain't  so  handy  with  themselves  as  they  was  once, 
but  I  can't  turn  'em  down.  They're  getting  old. 
There's  Corcoran  now  —  ye  mind  him?  Denny  Cor- 
coran, he's  full  as  old  as  I  am.  They  fired  him  off  the 
Waterworks  tunnel  job  the  other  day,  and  here  he 
comes  to  me  with  the  sorrowful  tale,  and  for  old  sake's 
sake  I  had  to  give  him  something  to  do.  I  could  name 
ye  a  dozen  like  him.  Of  course  'tis  the  drink  that's 
the  matter  with  Denny,  poor  fellow.  But  they  ain't 
all  that  way.  I  don't  know  just  what  it  is  ails  'em; 
they  can't  seem  to  get  ahead  any.  I  mean  young  ones 
and  old  ones  and  all;  there's  something  wrong  Tvdth 
'em.  They've  got  just  as  good  a  chance  as  ever  I  had ; 
but  they  can't  seem  to  take  hold  somehow.  And  then 
they  talk  about  my  luck !  " 

"  No,  they  haven't  got  as  good  a  chance  as  yourself, 
Mike,"  said  the  other.  "  They're  not  made  the  way 
you  are.  The  way  things  are  nowadays,  a  man's  got 
to  get  down  and  scratch  gravel  —  he's  got  to  hustle, 
or  somebody '11  walk  right  over  him.  Yep,  yoit  know 
how  that  is,  I  guess.  No  need  to  tell  yoii.  Well, 
now,  you  can  do  it,  and  /  can  do  it ;  but  these  others 
can't  do  it,  that's  all.  The  poor  devils  can't  do  it. 
All  the  same,  they  got  to  live,  ain't  they?  A  man's 
got  a  right  to  his  job,  ain't  he?  That's  what  the 
unions  takes  care  of,  like  I  was  telling  you.     That's 


172  THE  RUDDER 

^^hat  the  unions  is  for.  A  workingman's  got  to  work ; 
lie  hasn't  got  any  time  to  look  out  for  himself  that 
way,  so  his  union  takes  hold  and  sees  that  he  gets  a 
square  deal;  keeps  people  from  sticking  more  onto 
him  than  he  can  do,  and  then  telling  him  he's  incom- 
petent and  throwing  him  out.  It's  not  fair  to  meas- 
ure the  ordinary  man  ui^  against  one  of  these  experts, 
and  then  say :  ^  Here,  you  ain't  doing  as  well  as  this 
other  fellow.  Git ! '  That  ain't  fair.  The  only  fair 
thing  is  to  standardise  the  work,  so  there  won't  be 
any  unjust  comparison.  But  who's  going  to  do  that? 
Not  the  employers,  you  bet !  They're  going  to  squeeze 
the  last  ounce  of  work  they  can  out  of  a  man,  and 
throw  him  away  when  they're  through  with  him. 
That's  where  the  union  steps  in  and  keeps  'em  from 
taking  the  bread  out  of  his  mouth,  and  out  of  his 
wife  and  children's  mouth.  Ain't  that  right?  Ain't 
it  right  the  workingmen  should  get  together  and  fix 
up  some  kind  of  organisation  to  protect  'em  against 
organised  capital?  " 

"  Sure,  it's  right.  Why,  I'm  just  as  strong  for  the 
union  as  you  are.  Jack,"  said  Devitt  hastily.  "  I'll 
give  the  boys  the  raise.  I  know  they  have  a  hard  time 
getting  along  —  some  of  'em  do,  that  is.  I  don't  have 
it  so  easy  always  myself.  I've  been  a  workingman 
too  —  am  still  by  times,  for  that  matter  —  only  there 
wasn't  any  union  when  I  began,  and  what  I  say  is 
that  I  got  along  without  it,  just  the  same.  It's  as  I 
was  saying,  some  of  us  do  and  some  don't,  unions  or 


no  unions." 


^'  Things  were  different  twenty  years  ago.  You 
couldn't  do  it  now,  Mike.  You  couldn't  make  out  to 
live  hardly  nowadays  on  the  wages  you  got  then. 
Things  have  gone  up  so,  it  ain't  but  fair  that  wages 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  17 


<> 


slioiild  go  up  to  meet  'em.  It's  no  more  than  reason- 
able. You  know  there  ain't  any  set  of  men  that 
could  get  me  to  come  to  you  with  any  proposition  that 
wasn't  reasonable.  That's  what  I  told  'em,  I  said: 
'  There's  reason  in  everything,  and  I  won't  stand  for 
anything  out  of  reason,  nor  Mike  Devitt  won't  neither, 
not  if  /  knoAv  him ! '  I  says :  '  You  can  talk  about 
calling  a  strike  on  him,  and  getting  him  all  tied  up 
if  you  want  to,  it  won't  make  a  bit  of  difference  to 
Devitt,  unless  he  sees  there's  reason  in  it.'  I  gave 
'em  a  good  talking  to.  Nothing  in  it  for  me.  I  just 
like  to  see  things  done  in  a  square  way."  He  made  a 
liberal  gesture :  ''  Can't  help  it  —  that's  the  way  I 
feel.  I  wouldn't  put  this  up  to  you,  if  I  didn't  think 
it  was  fair,  Mike." 

"  I  know,  I  know.  I  told  ye  I'd  give  'em  the  raise," 
said  Mike,  hastily  again,  in  fact  with  a  warmth  of 
agreement  that  may  have  cost  him  some  effort. 
"And  now  we're  over  with  business,  ye'll  stay  and 
have  some  supper,  or  Norah'll  be  in  our  hair,  the  both 
of  us ! "  he  added  much  more  spontaneously,  as  the 
other  grasped  his  hand. 

This  guest  was  Mr.  John  Dalton,  a  familiar  figure 
in  the  Thirteenth  Ward,  where  he  had  been  council- 
man for  a  period  of  years,  conscientiously  giving  his 
whole  time  and  attention  to  the  duties  of  that  office, 
it  may  be  presumed,  since  he  was  not  observed  ever 
to  be  engaged  in  any  other  business,  trade  or  pro- 
fession. Now,  however,  he  was  out  of  politics,  hav- 
ing become  Secretary  of  the  Federation  of  Teamsters 
and  Allied  Trades,  with  an  office  in  the  Kremlin 
Building,  instead  of  the  little  room  on  Liver  Alley 
behind  Metznauer's  Place  where  he  used  to  carry  on 
the  work  of  being  a  councilman ;  and,  judging  from 


174  THE  RUDDER 

appearances,  he  was  making  a  success  at  this  job,  too, 
without  undue  exertion.  Off-hand,  one  would  not 
have  guessed  that  he  and  the  elder  Devitt  would  be 
particularly  congenial;  he  was  some  years  younger 
than  Michael,  and  having  been  born  on  this  side,  must 
have  grown  up  with  very  different  standards  and 
points  of  view  —  not  to  mention  environment  and  op- 
portunities and  advantages.  But  the  families  came 
from  the  same  little  neighbourhood  in  the  old  coun- 
try. Devitts  and  Daltons  knew  one  another  from  old 
times,  by-gone  generations  of  them  had  intermarried, 
their  association  was  a  habit,  a  tradition.  Council- 
man and  Secretary  Dalton  had  always  been  as  inti- 
mate in  the  Devitt  household  as  any  friend  they  had ; 
and  his  heavy-set  figure  —  growing  somewhat  heavier 
of  late  years  —  his  diamond  scarf-pin,  his  small,  bold, 
light  blue  eyes,  his  stiff  black  moustache  and  big  jaw, 
his  thick  laughter,  his  ready,  fluent  talk,  were  among 
young  Tim's  first  recollections.  Tim  thought  Dalton 
a  great  man ;  he  wore  good  clothes  not  only  on  Sun- 
days but  every  day,  he  smoked  cigars  instead  of  a 
little  rank  pipe,  he  could  drink  any  amount,  he  had 
plenty  of  money,  he  went  about  making  speeches,  it 
had  been  printed  in  the  newspapers  and  Tim  had  seen 
it  with  his  own  eyes  that  Jack  Dalton  owned  Con- 
gressman Candee;  what  more  in  the  way  of  a  hero 
could  one  ask? 

It  was  disappointing  and  provoking  at  the  same 
time  that  it  impressed  Timothy  even  more  with  a  sense 
of  the  other's  greatness  to  find  out  that  he  could  not 
successfully  ape  this  potent  and  splendid  personage; 
besides  the  clothes,  the  cigars  and  the  money,  he  un- 
certainly perceived  something  else  in  Dalton's  equip- 
ment, some  enviable  and  formidable  quality  which  he 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  175 

himself  did  not  possess  —  as  yet !  Whatever  it  was, 
Tim  was  sure  that  he  woukl  possess  it  some  day ;  but 
in  the  meanwhile,  even  he,  who  f^erhaps  was  not  gifted 
with  much  humorous  insight,  realised  that  openly  to 
take  Dalton  for  a  pattern  might  be  regarded  as  merely 
funny.  The  conclusion  was  enforced  by  the  total  lack 
of  serious  consideration  which  his  ventures  at  Dal- 
ton's  swagger  and  half-jocular,  half-bullying  assur- 
ance met  with  in  the  home  circle. 

"Ho,  ye  want  a  dollar,  do  ye?''  his  father  would 
say,  suddenly  lowering  the  paper,  and  grimacing  at 
him  with  a  sharpness  of  eye  that,  to  tell  the  truth, 
caused  the  embryo  Dalton  to  shiver  in  his  shoes. 
"  My  fine  Timmie  wants  a  dollar !  And  who  told  ye 
to  come  at  me  like  a  pirate  demanding  it?  Is  that  a 
way  to  behave?  Mamma,  why  don't  ye  bring  this 
boy  up  better? '' 

"Now,  then,  Mike,  give  it  to  him.  He  asked  ye 
for  it  civil  enough,  ye  know  he  did.  Ye  just  want  to 
tease  the  poor  child.  Never  mind,  Tim  dearie,  your 
father  will  have  his  fun.  Hell  give  it  ye  directly," 
cried  the  mother,  bristling.     "  Now  then,  Mick — !  " 

"  Ye're  spoiling  him,  that's  vvhat  ye  are,  Norah. 
He'd  ought  to  be  earning  his  own  dollars  in  place  of 
coming  to  me  for  them,"  Devitt  pretended  to  gi^umble, 
getting  out  the  money,  nevertheless.  "  He's  sixteen 
years  old.  When  I  was  sixteen,  if  I'd  gone  to  the 
old  man,  it's  not  a  dollar  I'd  have  got,  but  a  whack 
over  the  head !     By  the  same  token,  I  didn't  do  it !  " 

"  Of  course  ye  didn't,  ye  great,  strapping  fellow 
with  a  fist  on  ye  like  a  ham,"  said  Mrs.  Devitt,  indig- 
nantly. "  Ye  never  will  understand  that  Timmie's 
delicate.  The  boy  hasn't  the  stren'th  to  work  your 
way.     It  takes  all  he's  got  for  the  studying.     Would 


176  THE  RUDDER 

ye  rather  Tim  was  out  on  your  roads  digging  your 
ditches  along  with  them  dagos  and  niggers  than  get- 
ting himself  a  good  education  to  —  to  be  —  to  be  a 
credit  to  your  old  age?  Think  shame  to  yourself, 
Mike  Devitt  — !'' 

*'  Mother  of  Christ,  will  ye  listen  to  the  woman ! 
Norah,  I  never  said  a  w^ord  like  that!     I  just  said — '^ 

And  at  this  point  Master  Tim  generally  escaped, 
with  his  dollar,  to  be  sure,  but  conscious  of  con- 
spicuous failure  in  the  role  of  Dalton.  As  far  as  get- 
ting the  money  w^as  concerned,  his  mother's  methods 
were  much  more  effective ;  but  I  am  afraid  that,  while 
finding  her  extremely  convenient  and  reliable,  the 
young  gentleman  did  not  thank  her  for  her  excited 
partisanship;  I  am  afraid  that,  in  spite  of  the  noble 
sentiments  he  expresses  nowadays,  Timothy  felt,  at 
this  time,  a  very  definite  contempt  for  his  mother. 
And  amongst  his  many  models,  I  doubt  if  it  ever  oc- 
curred to  him  to  class  Michael  Devitt;  but  did  ever 
any  boy  yet  make  a  hero  of  his  own  father? 

It  may  speak  something  for  young  Devitt's  char- 
acter that  the  desire  and  determination  to  achieve  his 
destined  greatness  after  the  style  of  John  Dalton 
really  governed  him,  notwithstanding  an  occasional 
boyish  shifting  of  allegiance,  from  this  time  forward. 
All  the  while  he  was  at  college,  engaged  with  branches 
of  education  of  which  Mr.  Dalton  had  never  heard, 
or  in  recreations  of  a  description  to  rouse  the  latter's 
unbridled  scorn  and  laughter  —  all  the  while  T. 
Chauncey  w^as  grinding  away,  getting  everything  by 
heart  with  astounding  accuracy,  garnering  in  more 
prizes,  regarded  by  his  mother  with  adoring  pride, 
by  his  teachers  with  a  dubious  wonder,  by  his  fellow- 
scholars  scarcely  at  all  one  way  or  another  —  all  this 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  177 

while  Chaiincev  was  cherishing  his  plans  of  rising  to 
power,  affluence,  distinction  a  la  manicre  Dalton  I 
He  never  confided  his  ambitions  to  anybody,  partly 
because  he  never  made  any  close  friends,  and  j^artly 
from  a  profound  caution,  or  rather  secretiveness 
which  he  early  develojied,  which,  indeed,  the  circum- 
stances required  of  him.  When  asked  what  he  meant 
to  do  or  be,  it  was  manifestly  impossible  to  explain 
that  his  career  was  to  be  shaped  upon  John  Dalton's. 
No  one  would  have  understood;  Chauncey  himself 
did  not  clearly  understand,  for  that  matter.  He  had 
no  bent  for  research,  analysis,  investigation,  original 
work,  in  short,  of  any  kind.  However,  he  speedily 
got  an  answer  ready ;  he  was  not  to  be  caught  like  so 
many  of  the  young  fellows  who  would  unblushingly 
confess  that  they  had  not  yet  decided  upon  their 
future.  When,  for  instance,  Professor  Wilson  in- 
quired, Chauncey  tranquilly  rei)lied  that  he  intended 
to  be  a  consulting  engineer. 

"A  —  er  —  a  stationarv  one?"  said  Wilson,  look- 
ing  extraordinarily  interested. 

"  Yes.  Yes,  of  course,"  said  Tim,  who  recollected 
having  seen  the  term  stationary  applied  to  engineers 
somewhere,  somehow,  in  one  of  his  books. 

^'  Of  course.  A  consulting  engineer  would  nat- 
urally have  to  be  stationary,"  said  the  Professor,  in  a 
mild  and  thoughtful  way,  quite  devoid  of  significance. 
It  should  not  have  made  T.  Chauncey  for  the  moment 
faintly  uncomfortable ;  but  he  never  liked  Wilson,  or 
felt  at  ease  in  his  presence. 


1 


CHAPTER  II 

■^HE  first  people  with  whom  the  Devitts  made 
acquaintance  on  moving  to  Poplar  Street 
were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Homer  Morehead  and 
their  large  family.  This  was  natural,  as  they  lived 
just  across  the  way,  and  the  two  households  must 
have  met  soon ;  but  in  point  of  fact,  it  was  the  very 
next  day,  when  Norah  with  her  head  wrapped  in  a 
towel  was  flying  to  and  fro  everywhere  upstairs, 
downstairs,  indoors  and  out,  scouring,  sweeping,  or- 
dering and  arranging,  and  Mike  was  good-humouredly 
swearing  at  the  stove-pipe,  and  Tim  was  staying  home 
from  school  to  run  errands  and  help  with  the  step- 
ladders  and  buckets  of  water  —  it  was  while  they 
were  in  the  middle  of  this  that  Mrs.  Morehead,  re- 
versing the  usual  proceeding  when  new-comers  ap- 
pear in  a  neighbourhood,  sent  over  to  borrow  a 
dishpan !  "  And  the  next  time  I  set  eyes  on  it,"  Mrs. 
Devitt  related  afterwards,  grimly  amused,  "  'twas 
standing  on  the  wash-bench  by  the  hydrant  in  their 
backyard,  and  whether  there  was  potato-peelings  or 
somebody's  dirty  shirt  in  it,  I  couldn't  tell  ye,  but  it 
looked  like  both !  ^  Oh,  my,  if  there  ain't  your  pan ! ' 
says  Mrs.  Morehead,  seeing  me  stare.  ^  Ain't  the 
girls  careless  now?  '  she  says,  laughing  like.  ^  I'll  see 
it's  sent  back  right  away.'  ^  Oh,  don't  mind  about  it, 
Mrs.  Morehead,'  says  I.  ^  I'm  not  needing  it.  I've 
plenty  of  pans.  Never  mind  it ! '  So,  sure  enough, 
she  didn't!     She's  got  it  this  minute,  and  I'm  just  as 

178 


THE  WAGON  AXD  THE  STAR  179 

well-pleased.  The  way  it  looked,  there  ain't  a  pig 
but  what  would  have  turned  up  his  nose  at  the  notion 
of  taking  his  swill  out  of  it.  It  wasn't  long  till  we 
found  out  what  kind  they  were.  I've  never  loaned 
'em  since,  though  not  for  the  want  of  asking  I  Them 
Moreheads  are  all  of  'em  a  poor,  footless  lot.  They 
do  be  calling  the  father  ^Junk,'  ye  know,  and  'tis  a 
good  name  for  him;  junk's  all  he's  fit  for.  There's 
times  I  feel  sorry  for  the  childer,  for  it's  not  their 
fault;  what  could  ye  expect?  Like  father,  like  son  I  " 
Now  behold  how  inconsistent  are  the  judgments  of 
man  I  Homer  Morehead,  whom  thrifty,  reputable, 
successful  people  like  the  Devitts  and  others  dis- 
missed with  a  contemptuous  nickname,  actually  re- 
sembled in  certain  not  inconspicuous  aspects  the  uni- 
versally respected  —  it  may  even  be,  feared  I  —  John 
Dal  ton.  Homer  had  once  held  office  too ;  he  had  been 
head  of  the  Garbage  Department,  from  which  position 
an  unappreciative  administration  deposed  him  after 
about  two  years,  since  when  he  had  been  allowed  to  re- 
main, against  his  own  earnest  protest,  "  out  of  poli- 
tics." Also  like  Dalton  he  was  reputed  to  hold  any 
amount  of  liquor ;  and  he  was  another  lily  of  the  field, 
nobody  ever  having  known  him  to  toil,  much  less  spin, 
even  when  he  had  a  job.  But  it  was  Mr.  Morehead's 
misfortune  to  lack  what  the  other  so  eminently  pos- 
sessed, the  outward  accessories  of  greatness.  In  di- 
rect contrast  to  Dalton,  Junk  loafed  in  his  own  home, 
or  hung  about  the  street  corners,  forever  ^'  striking  " 
somebodv  for  a  dollar  or  a  drink,  seedv,  unshaved,  un- 
washed,  and  out  of  pocket.  He  was  fathoms  deep  in 
debt  to  every  tradesman  in  the  neighbourhood;  his 
conversation  was  an  endless  funereal  narrative  of 
hard  luck  and  unjust  treatment.     It  would  not  have 


180  THE  RUDDER 

been  Homer  upon  whom  young  Tim  Devitt  would 
have  striven  to  model  himself  —  perish  the  thought! 
Tim  would  have  ridiculed  the  suggestion  that  the 
mighty  Dalton  and  this  ineffectual  creature  had  any- 
thing in  common,  or  might  be  at  bottom  two  of  a 
trade.  He  was,  however,  observant  enough  to  note 
and  imitate  —  within  limits  —  Dalton's  manner  to- 
ward the  other  man,  whom  the  ex-councilman  appar- 
ently felt  free  to  use  or  abuse  at  will.  He  would 
treat  Junk  to  a  glass  of  beer  as  he  might  throw  a  bone 
to  a  hungry  mongrel;  and  likewise  whistled  him  to 
heel,  or  kicked  him  out  of  the  way  figuratively  — 
perhaps  at  times  literally  —  whenever  it  suited  his 
mood  or  convenience.  The  spectacle  helped  to  con- 
firm Tim's  belief  in  his  hero,  and  strengthened  his 
resolution  to  be  himself  some  day  an  owmer  of  con- 
gressmen and  Moreheads. 

Meantime  he  was  on  i)retty  intimate  terms  with  the 
neighbours  across  the  street,  rather  to  his  mother's 
uneasiness.  It  was  true  the  Morehead  boys  w^ere  not 
of  an  age  to  associate  with  her  son  —  in  other  w^ords 
to  contaminate  him;  Tom  was  too  old,  twenty  or  so, 
occasionally  had  work  somewhere,  and  at  any  rate 
was  seldom  home  by  day  or  night ;  the  other  boys  were 
too  young,  four  or  five  years  Tim's  junior,  quite  be- 
neath the  notice  of  a  freshman  at  Cambridge  College. 
It  was  the  young  women  of  the  family  that  Mrs.  De- 
vitt looked  upon  with  disfavour,  against  whom  she 
was  eternally  aiming  those  pathetically  futile  shafts 
of  ridicule,  criticism,  sarcasm  with  which  mothers 
seek  to  protect  their  sons  from  sentimental  entangle- 
ments. Mrs.  Michael  was  a  good  woman;  she  would 
not  breathe  a  word  against  the  girls'  characters, 
though  Heaven  knew  it  was  strange  how  they  man- 


THE  WxVGON  AND  THE  STAR  181 

aged  to  keep  straight,  coming  out  of  such  a  home! 
After  all,  they  were  young,  there  was  a  chance  for 
them  yet ;  some  day  they  might  leave  off  lazying  round 
the  house,  reading  novels  with  the  beds  not  made  and 
the  dishes  standing,  or  dressing  themselves  up  with 
false  hair  and  high  heels  and  jjaint  and  powder  and 
parading  the  streets  making  eyes  at  the  men,  and 
going  to  shows  at  the  theatre,  and  to  the  Zoo  and  the 
Lagoon  with  whatever  fellow  asked  them  —  they 
mi(jht  leave  off  all  that  some  day  —  but  Mrs.  Xoah's 
manner  indicated  that  it  was  much  to  be  doubted  — 
and  stay  at  home  and  learn  to  cook  and  redd  up  the 
house  and  make  their  clothes  or  at  least  mend  them 
decently.  If  some  such  change  did  not  take  place, 
you  had  only  to  look  at  their  mother,  the  fat,  slovenly 
thing  in  her  greasy  old  skirts  with  the  placket-hole  al- 
ways hanging  out  —  you  need  only  look  at  Jier  to  see 
what  the  girls  were  coming  to  I  Sorry  indeed  would 
the  man  be  that  married  'em,  Tim's  mother  averred 
with  a  sort  of  scornful  sympathy  which  had  the  same 
effect  on  the  person  for  whom  it  was  intended  as  the 
whole  of  the  foregoing  speech  —  that  is  to  say,  no  ef- 
fect whatever !  Master  Tim  would  hear  this  kind  of 
talk  day  by  day,  meal  by  meal ;  and  would  rise  up  im- 
mediately thereafter  and  go  over  and  sit  on  the  front 
steps  with  Lutie  Morehead  all  evening ! 

Mrs.  Devitt,  like  other  ladies  in  similar  circum- 
stances, was  not  entirely  fair ;  there  was  something  to 
be  said  on  the  side  of  the  sirens.  The  Morehead  girls 
all  worked ;  they  were  working  when  Tim  Devitt  first 
started  off  to  Cambridge,  long  before  he  had  begun 
to  think  of  making  a  living.  Ella  had  the  gift  of  a 
course  at  business-college  from  some  rich  relative  — 
it  was  reported  —  and  got  a  place  as  stenographer  in 


182  THE  EUDDER 

a  down-town  office;  Louise  (Lutie)  was  with  a  ladies' 
tailor  on  Seventh  Street,  Carrie  at  the  ribbon  counter 
in  the  Bon  Marche.  They  had  no  time  and  perhaps, 
when  they  came  home  at  night,  not  much  energy  left 
for  cultivating  the  domestic  arts;  and  might  be  par- 
doned for  taking  their  ease  or  their  pleasure  on  Sun- 
days and  holidays,  even  in  the  style  Mrs.  Devitt  right- 
eously condemned.  As  to  a  knowledge  of  the  world 
and  of  the  value  of  money,  any  one  of  them  probably 
had  a  good  deal  the  advantage  of  her  Timmie,  for  all 
his  sex  and  his  intellect,  his  striking  appearance  and 
no  less  striking  manners  v/hich  his  years  at  Cam- 
bridge brought  to  a  finished  perfection. 

Lutie  Morehead  was  the  one  who  had  come,  of  yore, 
to  borrow  the  dish-pan.  And  from  that  day,  though 
she  was  then  only  a  gawky  girl-lout  of  fifteen  with  her 
frowsy  yellow  hair  tied  up  in  a  bit  of  shoestring  and 
a  dirty  gingham  slip  burst  out  at  the  armholes  and 
not  nearly  long  enough  or  full  enough  to  cover  her 
growing  young  body  respectably  —  from  that  day  she 
had  cherished  a  devouring  admiration  for  Tim  Devitt ; 
it  would  not  be  going  too  far  to  call  it  a  passion. 
Whoever  loved  that  loved  not  at  first  sight?  Tim 
was  so  dark,  slender  and  elegant  looking;  he  had  such 
beautiful  eyes;  he  spoke  differently,  he  wore  his 
clothes  differently,  he  carried  himself  differently  from 
other  boys.  He  was  the  living  image  of  a  certain 
Guy  Maltravers,  the  villain  —  and  therefore  the  most 
fascinating  character  —  in  Hearts  and  Hands^  the 
current  melodrama  in  the  Fireside  Magazine;  Lutie 
used  to  call  him  Gu  (thus  she  pronounced  it)  in  her 
thoughts,  until  he  took  to  calling  himself  Chauncey, 
an  innovation  which  she  was  the  earliest  to  adopt. 

By  that  time,  that  is,  during  his  senior  year,  Lutie 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  183 

had  ^'  bloomed  iuto  womanhood "  as  the  Fireside 
Magazine  would  have  said,  as  T.  Chauncej  himself 
might  have  said,  for  that  matter;  it  is  a  handy  and 
high-sounding  phrase,  besides  being  in  this  case  more 
than  usually  descriptive.  For  Lutie  had  not  stopped 
at  blooming;  she  was  already  alarmingly  full-blown, 
'^  taking  after  "  Mrs.  Morehead  in  a  tendency  to  flesh, 
and  being  a  healthy  young  woman  with  a  fine  appe- 
tite. There  are  gentlemen,  like  Mr.  John  Dalton,  for 
instance,  who  admire  an  opulent  figure,  but  poor 
Lutie  knew  instinctively  that  T.  Chauncey  would  not. 
She  herself  thought  that  it  was  not  "  refined,"  wept 
and  worried  in  secret,  starved  by  fits  and  starts, 
hoarded  her  money  to  buy  various  expensive  "  reduc- 
ing "  girdles,  corsets  and  what-nots,  and  spent  hours 
of  torture  belted,  laced  and  strapped  into  them  — 
all  without  the  loss  of  an  inch  or  an  ounce !  It  was 
exasperating.  Otherwise,  however,  she  was  a  pretty 
girl.  She  would  have  received  attentions  in  plenty 
from  the  male  youth  of  Poplar  Street  and  its  vicinity 
if  she  had  given  anybody  the  slightest  encouragement. 
But  these  unlucky  lads  had  no  distinction ;  they  were 
not  picturesque ;  they  were  not  spectacular ;  they  did 
not  go  to  Cambridge  and  carry  off  all  the  honours  at 
the  same  time  that  they  were  wild  and  dashing  and 
dangerous  like  the  heroes  of  Mr.  Chambers'  novels. 
They  clerked  in  groceries  and  drug-stores,  or  drove 
delivery -wagons ;  so  far  from  resembling  Gu  Maltrav- 
ers,  they  not  infrequently  had  distressing  crops  of 
pimples,  and  they  wore  ready-made  ties  and  bought 
''  two-pant  suits  *'  for  thirteen-fifty  at  the  Bon  Mar- 
che.  Lutie  would  have  none  of  their  society;  she 
cared  only  for  T.  Chauncey's,  and  alas,  T.  Chauncey 
knew  it ! 


184  THE  RUDDER 

For  young  Mr.  Devitt  was  not  at  all  in  love  with 
Lutie  Morehead;  his  mother  might  have  spared  her 
worry  on  that  score.  What  kept  him  sitting  on  the 
Morehead  steps  or  the  Morehead  parlour  sofa  side  by 
side  with  her  whispering  in  the  semi-dark  until  an  in- 
discreetly late  hour  was  no  warmth  of  feeling  on  his 
own  side;  it  was  wholly  on  Lutie's.  He  was  not  in 
the  least  averse  to  her  being  in  love  with  him,  and 
showing  it ;  her  adoring  devotion  enfolded  him  luxuri- 
ously, caressing  his  every  sense.  It  was  as  profound 
and  unquestioning  as  his  mother's,  only  spiced  with 
something  else,  something  ardent  and  electrifying 
that  the  young  man  recognised  with  a  species  of 
shamed  delight.  Here  was  a  situation  for  a  Don 
Juan ;  but  Chauncey  did  not  really  want  to  be  a  Don 
Juan ;  he  merely  wanted  to  be  thought  one.  He  knew 
that  being  a  Don  Juan  nowadays  is  likely  to  turn  out 
a  costly  recreation  what  with  the  Mann  law,  and 
breach-of-promise  proceedings  in  the  courts,  and  con- 
sidered himself  a  great  deal  too  clever  to  "  get  into 
trouble  that  way '' ;  but,  apart  from  that,  Lutie  did 
not  stimulate  him  to  the  adventure.  He  liked  to  feel 
her  thrill  when  he  held  her  hand  or  kissed  her;  he 
liked  to  see  her  change  colour  and  tremble  under  his 
gaze;  he  even  liked  it  when  she  would  jump  up  and 
move  away  from  him  in  a  panic,  chokingly  murmur- 
ing that  he  could  just  shut  his  face  and  not  say  any 
more  things  like  that;  he  needn't  think  he  could  get 
flip  with  her,  and  so  on;  Chauncey  relished  all  this 
too  much  to  forego  it,  but  all  the  same,  Lutie  was 
safe.  It  was  too  easy,  too  obvious !  What  man  ever 
vehemently  desired  what  he  could  have  for  the  ask- 
ing? If  she  had  only  been  a  married  woman,  now  — ! 
But  even  then,  he  told  himself,  she  would  have  missed 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STxiR  185 

the  flavour,  the  piquancy  of  the  affair;  she  had  not 
the  slightest  instinct  for  intrigue.  He  would  not 
have  been  ill-pleased  if  she  had  shown  a  disposition 
to  pine  away  in  a  wan  and  hectic  decline  with  unsatis- 
fied longing.  The  operation  would  have  been  a  pretty 
lengthy  one  in  view  of  Lutie's  health  and  avoirdupois, 
and  somehow  the  suggestion  moves  unpoetic  souls  to 
profane  hilarity;  but  Chauncey  was  serious;  he  was 
always  deeply  serious  about  himself. 

And  so  was  Lutie;  perhaps  the  gi-atifying  serious- 
ness with  which  she  took  him  was,  when  all  was  said, 
her  strongest  attraction.  That  part  of  their  con- 
versation which  was  not  philandering  was  given  ex- 
clusively to  T.  Chauncey,  his  plans,  his  endeavours, 
his  successes  —  he  never  had  any  failures  —  his  past, 
present  and  future.  Lutie  heard  all  about  Cambridge, 
Chauncey's  classmates  whom  he  was  always  excelling, 
his  professors  whom  he  was  always  confuting,  the 
fraternities  that  competed  for  the  honour  of  his  mem- 
bership, the  dramatic,  literary  and  debating  societies 
of  which  he  was  the  leading  light,  the  girls  whom  he 
had  met  and,  of  course,  conquered;  he  referred  to 
these  last  with  a  chivalrous  reluctance  —  a  name,  a 
sigh,  a  quick  and  conscious  changing  of  the  subject  — 
but  in  spite  of  him  it  aroused  suspicion,  and  rowelled 
poor  Lutie  into  a  miserable  activity  of  question  and 
surmise. 

"  Is  she  pretty? ''  was  invariably  her  first  anxiety. 

"  Yes  —  beautiful !  Please  don't  talk  about  her  — 
j)lease  don't  ask  me  any  more  about  her ! '' 

"Where  is  she  now?  Still  up  there  at  Cam- 
bridge? " 

"  No.  They  took  her  to  Europe.  Professor  Man- 
ners sent  for  me.     He  said  he  wanted  to  talk  to  me 


186  THE  EUDDER 

about  his  daughter  frankly,  man  to  man.  I  had  to 
tell  him  that  I  could  not  — !  It  was  not  my  fault 
that  Margaret  — !  I  said  to  him :  *  Professor,  I 
think  my  heart  is  dead  —  I  think  it  is  a  stone.  I 
care  for  nothing  but  my  career.  I  cannot  love.'  He 
said:  *  Good  God,  Devitt;  won't  you  reconsider? 
Can't  you  think  it  over?'  But  I  —  I  coulchvt — ! '^ 
Chauncey  broke  off,  sweeping  his  thick,  wavy,  blue- 
black  hair  back  from  his  forehead  with  the  noble  ges- 
ture natural  to  him.  He  stared  past  her  at  the  man- 
telpiece whereon  there  stood  beneath  the  crayon  por- 
trait of  Mrs.  Morehead,  a  cup  and  saucer  of  blue  glass 
decorated  with  gilt  traceries,  a  china  representation 
of  a  shoe  ripped  open  at  one  side  with  a  china  big  toe 
coming  through,  a  small  vase  of  Oriental  ware  from 
the  Japanese  store,  filled  with  toothpicks,  and  two 
metallic-looking  figures  in  seventeenth-century  cos- 
tume, each  drawing  a  sword.  Chauncey  gazed  at 
these  objects  with  tragic,  brooding  eyes.  "  It  was 
horrible  I  "  he  said,  shuddering.  "  Don't  speak  to  me 
again  about  it,  Lutie  I  " 

"  Huh !  "  said  Lutie,  and  went  on,  unmoved  by  this 
appeal :     "  Didn't  you  see  her  again  after  that  ?  " 

^'  Yes,  once.  Don't,  Lutie  —  don't  torture  me !  I 
want  to  forget!  Can't  you  understand  that  there  are 
things  a  man  must  forget?  " 

"  All  right,"  said  Lutie,  meekly  and  rather  prosa- 
ically. "  I  won't."  It  was  at  such  moments  that 
her  inadequacy  became  most  annoyingly  apparent; 
she  never  knew  when  or  how  to  play  up  to  him. 

Sometimes,  indeed,  she  was  gaiilty  of  downright 
tactlessness;  witness,  for  example,  her  display  of 
overweening  interest  in  Amzi  Loring  Two  on  coming 
across  his  picture  in  baseball  uniform  and  the  article 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  18T 

about  liim  in  tlie  afternoon  paper  that  summer  before 
his  last  year  at  college  when  he  spent  the  vacation  on 
tour  with  a  professional  team.  "  Millionaire  Busher 
Cracks  Out  Home  Run,"  the  extra  was  headlined ;  and 
there  stood  ximzi  grinning  pugnaciously  over  his  bat 
from  the  middle  of  a  column  of  more  or  less  accurate 
biography.  Lutie  studied  it  with  questions  and  com- 
ments that  T.  Chauncey  Devitt  —  who,  as  yet,  had  not 
been  approached  for  his  photograph  by  any  journal 
—  found  dull  to  a  degree. 

"  My,  he's  big,  ain't  he?  It's  funny  his  going  to 
Cambridge  and  your  knowing  him,  and  here  he  is  in 
the  paper !  Don't  it  seem  funny  to  you  to  know  some- 
body that  way,  and  then  have  his  picture  staring  right 
at  you  in  the  paper?  I  guess  he  must  be  pretty  good ; 
it  says  here :  '  New  York  is  rumoured  to  have  offered 
ten  thousand  for  the  new  star,  but  Steinie  says  "  Nay, 
nay!'"     Who's  Steinie,  do  you  suppose?" 

"  Steinkampf,  they  mean  —  the  owner  or  manager 
of  the  team,  you  know.  That's  just  a  newspaper 
story,  most  likely,"  Chauncey  explained  in  a  bored 
voice.  "It's  nothing  but  a  little  scrub  league  any- 
how. It's  only  because  his  home  is  here  that  they 
make  such  a  fuss  over  him.  And  then  his  father 
being  so  prominent  in  business.  Everybody  knows 
who  he  is,  and  they  can't  afford  to  overlook  him,  you 
know." 

"Well,  he  knocked  the  ball  like  everything  any- 
way! I  guess  he  can  play  ball  all  right,"  said  Lutie 
obtusely.  "They  wouldn't  let  him  in  the  ball-club 
just  because  his  father  was  a  millionaire.  Do  you 
believe  he  is,  really?  " 

"  It's  not  a  matter  to  which  I  have  ever  given  the 
slightest  attention,"  said  Chauncey  .majestically. 


188  THE  KUDDER 

"  Well,  I  would !  I  should  think  you'd  have  got 
some  idea  from  knowing  this  one.  Tom  says  they've 
each  one  got  their  own  machine.  He's  working  out 
at  their  Elmwood  works,  so  of  course  he  knows  the 
old  man,  and  I  expect  he  must  know  the  other,  too. 
I'll  ask  him.  What's  he  like,  anyhow?  Ain't  his 
rooms  perfectly  elegant?  Or  have  you  ever  been 
there?" 

Chauncey  shrugged.  "  Of  course.  But  we  aren't 
congenial.  Why,  he  isn't  like  anybody  particularly; 
he's  not  a  man  anybody  would  single  out.  Fd  never 
make  a  friend  of  him.  Mentally  Loring  is  — !  "  He 
shook  his  head,  words  failing  him. 

"  Goodness,  he  ain't  off  in  his  head,  is  he?  " 

"  No,  no.  I  don't  mean  anything  like  that,"  said 
T.  Chauncey  impatiently.  ''  I  mean  he  hasn't*  any 
mentality.     He  can't  do  anything  but  play  baseball." 

"  Uh-huh,"  said  Lutie,  returning  to  the  photograph 
with  undiminished  interest.  "  I'd  like  to  see  him 
once,  though.  I  heard  he  was  dead  stuck  on  one 
of  the  society  girls  here,  Miss  M'randa  —  Nellie 
M'randa.  She's  right  in  with  that  North  Hill  crowd 
—  real  society ^  you  know.  Lots  of  'em,  Edie  Gar- 
rard, and  Annette  Gebhardt  and  Bessie  Grace  and  all 
that  moneyed  crowd — "  said  Lutie,  rattling  the 
names  off  glibly  —  "  Lots  of  'em  come  to  Fritsch  for 
their  tailor-mades,  and  that's  how  I  heard.  Nellie 
M'randa's  come,  too,  but  just  with  somebody  while 
they  were  trying  on ;  she  don't  get  anything  of  Fritsch ; 
I  guess  she  hasn't  got  the  price.  I  heard  some  of  the 
girls  one  time  when  she  was  there  kinda  kidding  her 
about  some  fellow;  maybe  it  was  this  same  fellow. 
I  didn't  say  anything,  or  let  on,  of  course,  but  she's 
a  kinda  relation  of  Pop's  —  well,  not  a  real  relation^ 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  181> 

just  by  marriage,  kinda  —  she  don't  know  me  when 
she  sees  me,  and  I  kinda  don't  like  to  breeze  up  to  her 
and  tell  her  who  I  am  —  it  would  look,  well,  kinda 
freshy  you  know,  and  as  if  I  wanted  to  break  in,  and 
it  don't  make  any  difference  if  a  girl  is  poor  and  got 
to  work,  you  can  show  just  as  much  true  refinement 
as  if  you  had  a  million,  /  think.  She's  got  lots  of 
style  and  —  oh,  I  don't  know  —  you  know!  I  mean 
you'd  know  she  was  somebody  anywhere  you  met  her,, 
if  you  met  her  in  the  moon  or  anywhere  —  you  know 
what  I  mean?  She's  got  the  dandiest  form!  They 
say  this  Loring  Two  fellow  is  just  crazy  about  her  — - 
and  here's  his  picture  in  the  paper!  Ain't  it  funny 
what  a  small  place  the  world  is,  after  all?" 

At  the  moment  the  world  seemed  to  Mr.  Devitt 
much  too  small  a  place  to  accommodate  himself  and 
Amzi  Two  comfortably.  Chauncey  disliked  the  other 
young  man  as  heartily  as  it  was  in  his  power,  not 
being  a  person  of  strongly  defined  tastes  or  very  deep 
feelings,  to  dislike  anybody.  Even  if  he  could  have 
been  brought  to  acknowledge  it,  he  could  not  have 
explained  why;  who  ever  can?  He  would  have  been 
pleased  to  hear  young  Loring  called  a  big,  stupid 
brute ;  but  it  was  not  exactly  because  of  his  stupidity 
or  brutality  that  Chauncey  did  not  fancy  him.  Per- 
haps the  trouble  was  that  Amzi,  for  his  part,  refused, 
as  it  were,  to  make  the  enmity  mutual  —  an  absurd 
reason,  but  a  reason  nevertheless.  The  big  man 
w^ould  not  take  the  trouble  to  hate  his  fellow-scholar ; 
w^hen  he  noticed  Chauncey  at  all,  it  was  to  laugh  at 
him,  and  there  was  something  in  his  laugh  that  made 
it  harder  to  endure  than  a  kick.  His  lack  of  "  men- 
tality "  was  annoyingly  exhibited  in  such  diversions 
as  cooing  or  trilling  the  name  of  Chauncey  in  his  great 


190  THE  EUDDER 

raucous  voice  on  sight  of  the  other  a  square  off;  or 
by  going  up  behind  Chauncey  as  the  latter  paced 
along  in  dignity,  and  ramming  his  hat  down  to  his 
ears ;  or  again  by  seizing  Chauncey  by  the  collar  and 
waistband  and  obliging  him  to  "  walk  Spanish '' 
across  the  campus  in  full  view  of  errant  townspeople, 
ribald  small  boys,  classmates,  even  instructors  and, 
hideous  to  relate,  young  ladies  of  their  common  ac- 
quaintance. There  is  nothing  humorous  about  this 
horseplay,  excej)t  to  the  simplest  and  coarsest  minds ; 
but  for  that  very  reason  one  cannot  found  a  quarrel 
upon  it.  If  a  man  strikes  you  in  the  face,  it  is  an  in- 
sult to  be  gravely  resented;  but  what  are  you  going 
to  do  if  he  turns  you  up  and  spanks  you?  Self- 
respect  would  seem  to  enjoin  reticence  and  inaction; 
the  less  said  the  better,  in  short.  Mr.  Devitt's  sole 
recourse  w^as  to  distance  the  other  in  the  class-room ; 
and  that  was  but  an  apples-of-Sodom  sort  of  revenge, 
for  Amzi  cared  nothing  about  his  standing  as  a 
scholar,  nor  did  any  one  else.  He  always  "  got 
through,"  nobody  knew  how,  and  nobody  inquired. 
So  long  as  he  remained  the  star  half-back,  the  crack 
left-fielder,  the  champion  all-around  athlete,  the  Fac- 
ulty would  wink  at  anything  to  keep  him  in  Cam- 
bridge was  Chauncey 's  bitter  and  probably  most  un- 
just judgment;  and  Loring  himself  would  rather  wear 
those  titles  than  all  the  academic  laurels  in  creation. 
Next  summer  both  young  men  graduated.  That 
was  one  occasion,  at  least,  when  Chauncey  had  abso- 
lutely the  premier  part,  and  acquitted  himself  to  ad- 
miration, as  has  been  seen.  It  was  the  highest  mo- 
ment of  his  life  so  far;  and  every  one,  all  his  world, 
seemed  to  grasp  its  significance  as  a  manifestation  of 
Ms  character,  an  earnest  of  what  fate  held  in  store 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  191 

for  liim.  The  other  young  fellows  congratulated  him 
honestly ;  the  president,  the  professors  spoke  in  grave 
and  kindly  approval;  the  girls  applauded  and  ad- 
mired ;  it  was  a  season  of  almost  perfect  satisfaction. 
Almost,  because  there  was  the  inevitable  crumpled 
rose-leaf  to  disturb  his  rest;  in  this  case,  the  behav- 
iour of  his  father  and  mother  which  caused  Chauncey 
wretched  uneasiness  in  anticipation,  and  turned  out 
to  be  even  worse  than  he  had  feared. 

"Here  now,  don't!  ^'  he  said  crossly,  twisting  out  of 
Mrs.  Devitt's  joyfully  effervescent  embrace.  ''  Don't ! 
Can't  you  see  nobody  else  does?  The  first  thing  you 
know  everybody'll  be  laughing  at  us.  This  isn't  like 
any  place  you've  ever  been  before,  remember,  and  peo- 
ple don't  act  the  way  you've  been  used  to." 

"I  know  —  I  know  —  I  can't  help  it,  Timmie  —  I 
don't  want  to  shame  ye  before  all  the  grand  folks  —  I 
won't  any  more  —  though,  to  be  sure,  they're  none  of 
'em  noticino;  me  anvwavs,"  said  his  mother,  valiantly 
trying  to  hold  back  her  tears ;  she  was  in  a  muddle  of 
emotions,  pride,  hysterical  tenderness,  sheer  excite- 
ment, and  chagrin  at  the  treatment  accorded  her  by 
the  "  grand  folks."  Was  she  not  the  mother  of  the 
"  champeen,"  as  she  innocently  ranked  Chauncey  in 
her  thoughts?  Even  if  the  other  mothers  were  jeal- 
ous, as  well  they  might  be,  they  ought  to  put  a  better 
face  on  it;  'twouldn't  hurt  them  to  be  neighbourly. 
"  Your  poppa's  nearly  worn  the  life  out  of  me,  any- 
how, with  his  contrariness,"  she  added  in  apology. 
"  Mike,  ye're  never  taking  your  gloves  off,  after  the 
time  I  had  getting  'em  on  ye?  " 

"  They've  split,  thank  God ! ''  said  Michael,  winking 
at  Chauncey,  as  he  wadded  the  gloves  into  a  lump, 
and    thrust    them    into    his    hip-pocket    (horrors!). 


192  THE  RUDDER 

^'  That's  better !  They  were  near  killing  me. 
Whoosh !  I  feel  as  if  I  could  breathe  now.  I  wish 
my  shoes  would  do  the  same ! " 

"Ah  now,  Mike,  ye're  just  doing  that  to  tease 
me — " 

"  Honest  to  God,  Norah,  them  gloves  is  osJcerspeelty 
as  old  Hoffmann  says  — " 

Chauncey  surveyed  them  both  in  a  kind  of  savage 
misery.  "  Well,  you  don't  need  to  make  such  a  noise 
about  it.  Everybody'll  think  you  never  had  a  pair  of 
gloves  before  in  your  life,''  he  adjured  his  father  in  a 
fierce  undertone.  "  You've  made  enough  noise  al- 
ready. You  oughtn't  to  have  stamped  on  the  floor 
that  way  when  you  wanted  to  applaud.  Nobody 
stamps  and  hammers  that  way,  or  makes  any  noise. 
It's  not  like  a  wake." 

"  Faith,  you're  soberer  than  if  it  was  one,"  retorted 
his  father  with  sj^irit.  "  Well,  I  don't  wonder  ye  feel 
that  way,  Timmie  lad,"  he  added,  softening  at  once. 
"  It's  a  grand  day  for  ye,  one  that  ye'll  remember  all 
your  life." 

"  Sure,  it  is  that!  I  always  knew  ye'd  do  fine  ever 
since  ye  was  a  little  lad,"  said  Norah.  "  I  always 
knew  ye  would !  But  all  the  same,  somehow,  I  —  I 
can't  take  it  in — "  Her  chin  quivered;  the  tears 
would  come  in  spite  of  her.  She  was  thinking  of  the 
time  when  he  had  been  her  little  boy ;  he  would  pound 
on  her  knee  with  his  chubby  fist  and  order  her  to  take 
him  up  —  order  her,  mind  ye,  the  wee  devil !  And 
sometimes  he  would  wake  in  the  dark  night,  and  cry 
for  her  — 

"  Don't  say  ^  you  tvas  ' —  it's  ^  you  were ' —  what  are 
you  crying  for?     There's  nothing  to  cry  about.     No- 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  193 

body  else  is  crying/'  Chauncej  urged.  "  Here  comes 
somebody.     Do  please  try  to  keejj  quiet  — ! '' 

Professor  Wilson  came  up,  and  was  presented, 
kindly  ignoring  the  fluster.  "  I'll  have  to  borrow  this 
young  gentleman  for  a  minute.  Mr.  Cook  wants  to 
meet  him/'  he  said,  his  hand  on  Chauncey's  arm. 
"  The  one  who  gave  the  address,  you  know?  Right 
over  there." 

''  Mr.  Cook,  is  it?  Oh,  yes !  Ain't  he  a  little  whif- 
fet of  a  man  now !  But  his  speech  was  good  enough^ 
though  'twasn't  near  the  equal  of  Tim's  —  I  mean 
Chauncey's  —  not  that  I'd  be  faulting  Mr.  Cook,  only 
considering  how  much  older  he  is — "  A  glare  from 
Chauncey  reduced  Mrs.  Devitt  to  red-faced  silence, 
biting  her  lips  as  the  tears  began  to  rise  again. 

"  He's  a  very  nice  fellow,  though.  Wouldn't  you 
like  to  come  and  meet  him,  too?"  said  Wilson,  send- 
ing from  one  to  another  of  them  the  smile  that  al- 
ways made  Chauncey  so  restless. 

"  They  —  they  can't  —  they've  got  to  go  presently 

—  we've  got  to  go  —  they  can't  possibly  take  the  time 

—  thank  you  — "  he  stammered. 

^'  GOy  d'ye  say?"  echoed  Michael  in  astonishment; 
^'  why,  we've  got  the  whole  day !  " 

"  No,  we  haven't.  We  ought  to  get  back  —  we  — 
we  have  to  —  that  is,  we  can't  stay  —  you  wait  right 
here  for  me — "  commanded  the  son  desperately- 
"  They  realh^  ought  not  —  my  mother  isn't  strong. 
She  can't  stand  heat  like  this.  She  ought  to  be  at 
home — "  he  was  quite  fluent  now,  and  indeed  would 
himself  have  believed  everything  he  was  saying,  if  it 
had  not  been  for  the  Professor's  eye  on  him  —  that 
expressionless  yet  disconcerting  eye.     However,  Wil- 


194  THE  RUDDER 

son  made  no  remark;  tliey  walked  off  together  to 
where  Cook  was  standing.  Mike  and  Norah,  left 
alone  once  more  in  the  middle  of  the  crowed  of  push- 
ing, congratulating,  happy,  excited  people,  not  one  of 
whom  knew  them  or  spoke  to  them,  felt  that  the  day 
had  come  to  an  end,  the  great,  glorious  day  on  which 
they  had  built  so  much,  to  which  they  had  looked  for- 
ward for  so  long  —  and  somehow,  it  was  a  kind  of 
disappointment  after  all. 


CHAPTER  III 

Y0U:N^G  Mr.  Devitt,  in  his  anxiety  for  his  par- 
ents' health,  hurried  their  departure  so  that 
they  may  not  have  had  time  to  observe  that 
none  of  the  other  fathers  and  mothers  and  relatives 
of  all  degi^ees  and  rejoicing  friends  were  as  yet  dream- 
ing of  leaving.  Not  much  notice  was  taken  of  their 
own  movements,  singularly  enough,  in  view  of  the 
forward  part  Chauncey  had  played  in  the  day's  cere- 
monies, and  of  his  three  or  four  years'  residence  dur- 
ing which  his  fellow-students  and  the  personnel  of 
the  college  must  have  come  to  know  him  well.  As 
usual,  isolation  was  the  penalty  he  must  pay  for 
greatness  —  at  least  so  Chauncey  himself  would  have 
accounted  for  the  indifference  sometimes  shown  him ; 
it  was  natural  that  lesser  spirits  should  be  afraid  or 
jealous.  However,  as  they  made  their  way  along, 
there  came  upon  them  a  tall,  heav;>-set,  fine-looking 
and  most  impeccably  dressed  gentleman  about  Devitt 
senior's  own  age,  to  wit,  Mr.  Amzi  Loring  One ;  and 
after  a  swift  glance,  he  stopped  short,  holding  out  his 
hand  and  speaking  with  great  cordiality. 

^^  Hello,  Devitt!  H'are  you?  Glad  t'  see  you," 
said  Mr.  Loring,  in  the  rapid,  word-clipping  jargon  of 
his  tribe,  the  tribe  of  mid-Western  business-men. 
"  Got  a  boy  here,  I  see.  Well,  well,  well !  Oh,  Mrs, 
Devitt !  "  He  shook  hands  with  Chauncey,  too,  look- 
ing him  over  with  a  species  of  casual  sharpness. 
"Let's  see,  you're  the  young  fellow  that  made  the 

195 


196  THE  RUDDER 

yaledictory  speech,  eh?"  he  said,  obviously  not  so 
much  impressed  by  that  performance,  notwithstand- 
ing all  that  it  implied  of  honour  and  eminence,  as  by 
the  fact  which  he  stated  next :  ''  You're  lame,  I  no- 
tice —  an  accident,  they  told  me.  Pity  it  had  to  hap- 
pen right  now !  But  it's  not  painful,  I  hope  —  a 
sprain,  isn't  it,  or  something  like  that?  I  think 
that's  what  they  said." 

'^  Er  —  no,  sir  —  yes  —  I  mean  it's  all  right,"  said 
Chauncey  uncomfortably,  disliking  old  Amzi  on  the 
spot.  He  was  out  of  temper  already;  the  lameness 
which  he  had  had  no  difficulty  in  persuading  himself 
w^as  genuine,  which  at  first  had  seemed  to  add  so  fine 
a  touch  of  melancholy  to  his  platform  presence,  now 
bade  fair  to  become  a  nuisance  what  with  people's 
foolish  questions  and  the  unforeseen  necessity  of 
keeping  it  up ! 

"  Sure  I'm  going  to  bathe  it  in  hot  water  and  salt 
and  a  w^ee  taste  of  vinegar  the  minute  he  gets  home. 
That  draws  out  the  pain,  d'ye  mind  — ?  "  his  mother 
w^as  saying  eagerly  in  her  high-pitched  voice  with  the 
brogue,  nodding  reassuringly  at  Loring  with  all  the 
flowers  on  her  hat  bristling  and  quivering  in  unison. 
The  young  man  could  have  ground  his  teeth ;  he  hated 
old  Loring  for  the  way  Mrs.  Devitt  said  "  Misther," 
for  the  way  he  himself  had  said  "  sir,"  for  listening 
so  good-naturedly,  for  the  unconsciousness  with 
which  he  wore  his  clothes  that  w^ere  so  well-cut  and 
seemly,  for  the  very  air  of  established  and  unconsid- 
ered habit  with  which  he  took  off  his  straw  hat  in 
the  feminine  presence.  Honest  Michael  Devitt  took 
off  Ms  hat,  his  ridiculous  top  hat,  with  the  gesture  of 
the  Irish  peasant  that  he  was ;  if  his  "  Prince  Albert  " 
had  had  a  tongue  it  could  not  have  proclaimed  its 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  19T 

status  as  "  Sunday  clothes  '^  louder ;  and  liis  son  vis- 
ited a  bitter  resentment  at  the  contrast  upon  Loring's 
head.  Chauncej's  vocabulary,  it  is  true,  furnished 
him  with  no  such  phrases  as  "  Irish  peasant " ;  what 
he  said  to  himself  was  that  his  father  looked  and 
acted  like  a  fanner;  they  all  did;  and  Loring  was  a 
pompous^  patronising  plutocrat! 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Loring,  who  was  a  plain  man, 
and  Mike  De\dtt,  who  was  another  plain  man,  were 
talking  together  as  equals  without  once  referring  to 
or  even  remembering  the  difference  between  their 
bank-accounts  or  in  their  manners  and  language  and 
social  condition,  which  indeed,  if  brought  to  their  no- 
tice, would  have  been  instantly  dismissed  as  non- 
existent or  of  no  importance.  If  Chauncey  had  been 
less  occupied  with  those  matters  he  might  have  ob- 
served a  certain  anxiety  overspread  his  father's  face 
as  he  drew  the  other  aside,  and  he  might  have  de- 
tected conciliation,  apology,  even  defence  in  Michael's 
clearing  of  the  throat,  in  his :  "  Well  now.  Mister 
Loring,  there's  something  I  was  wanting  to  speak  to 
ye  about — "  Xorah,  for  her  part,  guessed  the  some- 
thing to  be  troublesome  and  grave  on  the  instant,  and 
laid  a  deprecating  hand  on  her  son's  arm  when  he 
would  have  moved  on  impatiently. 

"  Wait  just  a  minute,  Timmie  darling  I  Papa's 
talking  business,"  she  whispered  with  the  awe  which 
that  topic  always  aroused  in  her.  To  see  her  so  pat- 
ently unsophisticated  added  extra  weight  to  Chaun- 
cey's  burden  of  mortification. 

"  Well,  what  if  he  is  ?  You  act  as  if  he  was  saying 
his  prayers,"  he  said  loudly,  and  fetched  a  laugh 
for  the  benefit  of  any  bystanders  within  hearing. 
''  Women    are    the    funniest!    It's    about   time   you 


198  THE  RUDDER 

stopped  saying  ^  Papa/  ''  lie  added,  sinking  Ms  voice 
again.     "  It  sounds  so  flat,  you  know." 

"Does  it  now?  I  never  thought  —  I  will,  though, 
after  this  —  I'll  remember,"  Mrs.  Devitt  promised 
him  meekly,  but  a  little  absently;  for  once  her  mind 
was  not  wholly  on  her  boy.  She  watched  the  two 
older  men  with  their  two  strong,  intent  faces,  Mike 
arguing,  old  Amzi  giving  ear,  and  turn  about.  Some- 
times neither  spoke  for  a  second,  their  eyes  meeting 
in  a  studious  silence.  Then,  when  one  recommenced, 
the  other  would  nod,  or  wag  negatively,  or  purse  his 
under  lijD,  or  interrupt  ^ith  emphasis,  or  merely 
throw  in  a  short  word.  What  was  it  all  about? 
"  I'll  get  it  out  of  Mike  to-night,  one  way  or  another," 
the  wife  resolved  in  uneasiness.  "  He's  been  acting 
worried  anyways,  and  he  never  wants  me  to  know." 
Which  was  quite  true ;  perhaps  her  husband  had  some 
justifiable  doubts  as  to  her  discretion,  but  at  any  rate 
Norah  often  complained  that  she  knew  scarcely  more 
of  his  affairs  than  the  next-door  neighbour.  As  for 
Chaunce}^  it  was  somehow  not  conceivable  either  that 
his  father  should  confide  in  him,  or  that  he  would  be 
interested,  ^^obody,  least  of  all  his  parents,  could 
associate  him  speculatively  with  the  "  Shamrock  Con- 
struction Company  "  in  any  of  its  activities.  Even 
Mr.  Loring,  who  had  never  laid  eyes  on  the  young 
man  before  in  his  life,  concurred  spontaneously  in 
this  opinion. 

"  Going  to  take  the  boy  with  you  in  the  business?  " 
he  inquired  as  Mike  and  he  returned  to  the  others,  the 
conference  being  ended.  "Guess  not,  eh?"  He 
brought  his  indifferently  discerning  gaze  to  bear  on 
Chauncey  again.  "  Little  early  to  make  plans  maybe 
—  but  I  guess  not,"  he  repeated.     "  He  don't  look  as 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAK  199 

if  he'd  do  very  well,  cussing  out  the  gang !  "  said  the 
Ice-King,  laughing  tolerantly. 

So  the}^  went  home  at  last.  Mr.  Dalton  came  up  to 
Poplar  Street  that  evening  to  offer  congratulations, 
he  said,  and  Avas  very  loud,  genial  and  hearty.  Norah 
had  a  lavish  supi3ly  of  good  things  to  eat,  and  perhaps 
a  drop  or  two  of  something  good  to  drink  in  spite  of 
Father  Clancy's  i^resence;  and  all  the  neighbours 
came  in  to  help  the  celebration  along.  Schlochter- 
maier,  the  butcher  from  down  street,  and  the  old  lady 
Schlochtermaier,  his  mother,  and  Hilda,  his  sister, 
the  one  that  had  the  book-keeping  job  out  at  Loring's, 
and  the  Morehead  girls  with  peek-a-boo  waists  and 
their  heads  dressed  out  to  the  size  of  so  many  bushel- 
baskets  in  rats  and  j)uffs,  and  all  the  Multloons  down 
to  the  baby,  and  that  little  red-haired  Giannetti  girl 
that  Tom  Morehead  was  going  with,  and  the  two 
Casey  boys  with  a  raft  of  other  young  folks  —  it 
was  a  representative  gathering.  Chauncey  stalked 
through  the  scene  melodramatic  and  remote  as  Dante 
in  the  groves,  surveyed  by  the  rest  with  boundless 
admiration  flavoured  with  some  fear  which  was  by  no 
means  distasteful  to  him,  nor  indeed  to  his  mother; 
she  took  pride  in  his  conscious  superiority  to  all  these 
people,  took  pride  in  his  superiority  to  herself.  "  I 
was  always  bound  he  should  be  a  gentleman,  and  look 
at  him  I  "  she  said  to  herself  delightedly.  "  Look  at 
the  air  of  him  alongside  them  other  boys !  They 'ain't 
anywhere ! " 

It  was  true ;  Chauncey  was  aware  of  it  with  a  pleas- 
ant sense  of  security.  No  crudely  humorous  Loring 
Two,  no  purseproud  Loring  One,  no  Wilson  of  the 
disquieting  smile  here !  And,  moreover,  no  annoying 
curiosity  as  to  what  he  was  going  to  do  or  be;  they 


200  THE  RUDDER 

were  all  too  dazzled  to  venture  the  question.  Even 
the  great  Dalton,  whose  interest  was  more  or  less  of 
a  compliment,  tactfully  avoided  the  subject,  treating 
Chauncej  instead  as  an  equal,  and  proffering  him  a 
perfect  dreadnought  of  a  cigar  as  man  to  man,  with 
no  trace  of  the  jolly  condescension  he  had  been  wont 
to  employ.  Dalton  himself  was  another  centre  of 
admiring  and  fearful  respect,  though  he  was  anything 
but  aloof  in  his  manner;  his  greatness  went  hand  in 
hand  with  marked  ability  as  a  "  good  mixer,"  and 
when  he  took  Mike  off  unceremoniously  for  a  private 
smoke  and  talk  on  the  front  steps,  there  were  not  a 
few  who  envied  their  host  that  affable  bullvins:. 
Norah  was  so  tired  and  "  let  down "  in  her  own 
phrase  when  the  welcome  bed-time  hour  arrived  after 
everybody  had  gone,  that  she  forgot  her  anxieties  of 
the  afternoon;  it  was  nothing  out  of  the  way  that 
Michael  should  be  silent  and  glum  when  the  excite- 
ment was  over;  he  was  tired  and  "let-down,"  too. 
But  he  got  up  bright  and  early  the  next  morning  as 
usual  and  had  been  out  on  the  work  three  hours  when 
Chauncey  came  yawning  down  to  breakfast. 

What  happened  next  has  been  recounted.  Chaun- 
cey and  the  men  brought  his  father  home  like  a  war- 
rior on  his  shield,  only  growling,  joking  and  j)rotest- 
ing  in  a  style  quite  foreign  to  that  classic  figure ;  their 
own  doctor  hurried  in;  Father  Clancy  came  again; 
Poplar  Street  congregated  in  full  strength  as  on  the 
night  before,  and  later  retired  rather  disappointed, 
on  the  whole,  that  events  were  not  going  to  culminate 
in  a  funeral.  Mr.  Dalton  did  not  hear  about  it  until 
the  next  day  when  he  called  upon  other  business  — 
for  he  stretched  a  point  when  he  told  Cook  that  the 
invalid  had  sent  for  him;  it  is  just  possible  that  he 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  201 

was  the  last  person  in  the  world  Michael  wanted  to 
see!  However,  to  do  him  justice,  the  ex-councilman 
was  concerned  enough  at  the  news  of  his  old  ac- 
quaintance's seizure  to  put  aside  his  original  errand. 
Instead  he  volunteered  to  help  carry  thanks  and  apol- 
ogies to  Miss  Maranda,  as  has  been  seen;  and  was 
good-nature  itself  with  young  Chauncey.  It  is  true 
lie  did  not  talk  much,  but  he  listened ;  so  that  by  the 
time  they  started  home  from  the  Maranda  visit 
Chauncey  felt  on  terms  of  the  most  confidential  inti- 
macy with  the  chieftain.  What  Mr.  Dalton  felt,  who 
could  have  guessed?  His  was  a  countenance  not  de- 
signed by  nature  for  the  frank  expression  of  his 
thought. 

''  This  Cook's  a  waiter,  you  say? ''  he  asked  as  they 
waited  for  the  trolley-car.     "  Writes  stories,  hey?  " 

"Yes.  He's  well  known  in  the  —  er  —  the  intel- 
lectual world.  I've  met  him  before,"  said  Chauncey 
negligently.     "What  do  you  think  of  him?" 

"  Oh,  he's  one  of  the  silk-stocking  crowd,  I  guess," 
said  Mr.  Dalton.  ("Here,  what  you  doing?  I  can 
pay  my  own  fare  —  oh,  well,  all  right,  if  you  want 
to !  Can't  make  me  mad  I )  The  girl  is,  too  — ^  Four. 
Hundred '  they  used  to  call  'em  years  ago."  He  got 
out  a  toothpick  and  applied  it  diligently  as  he  contin- 
ued the  subject  with  a  fluency  and  enthusiasm  he  had 
not  hitherto  displayed.  "Some  class  to  her^  huh? 
Say,  dye  know  it  was  real,  too !  It  was  all  there.  ^  I 
tell  you  when  a  woman's  solidly  pretty  like  she  is, 
she  can  put  it  all  over  the  rest  of  'em,  makes  no  differ- 
ence whether  she's  expecting  you,  or  where  she  is  or 
what  she's  doing  or  what  she's  got  on  —  and  you  bet 
their  clothes  count! ''  said  Mr.  Dalton,  who,  although 
a  single  man,  was  probably  not  without  some  experi- 


202  THE  EUDDEE 

mental  knowledge  on  this  i)omt.  ^'  She's  got  the 
goods,  that's  why.  They  can't  fix  up  with  paint  and 
powder  and  stuffing  like  the  real  thing."  He  leaned 
back,  champing  his  toothpick  with  conviction. 

Chauncey  thrilled  with  gratification  at  being  ad- 
mitted to  this  relaxed  and  revealing  mood,  upon  an 
even  footing,  too.  When  men  begin  to  gossip  about 
women  — !  He  rose  to  the  occasion,  a  look  of  infinite 
fatigue,  infinite  experience  settling  on  his  features. 

"  Yes,  I've  often  noticed  just  what  you  say  —  only 
women  don't  interest  me  any  more,"  he  said  lan- 
guidly. "  They  used  to  when  I  was  younger  —  but 
I'm  tired  of  it.  Too  much  sameness,  you  know.  A 
man  gets  tired  of  it." 

"  Sure !  Sure  he  does !  "  Dalton  agreed,  eyeing  him 
sidelong  with  peculiar  closeness.  ^^  I  see  you  know 
something  about  'em,"  he  remarked  seriously. 
Chauncey  shrugged,  with  a  brief  sigh.  "  Uh-huh," 
said  Mr.  Dalton.  An  instant  later,  with  disappoint- 
ing irrelevance,  he  called  his  companion's  attention 
to  a  cartoon  in  the  comic  supplement  of  the  Sunday 
paper,  with  a  sudden  and  violent  explosion  of  laugh- 
ter. "  Those  things  get  me  every  time !  "  he  declared 
when  he  could  speak  coherently,  wiping  tears  of  en- 
joyment from  his  eyes.  Nor  did  he  again,  through- 
out the  journey,  bring  up  the  previous  topic,  though 
the  younger  man  awaited  it  eagerly.  Chauncey 
w^anted  Mr.  Dalton  to  keep  on  talking  about  women, 
or,  at  any  rate,  about  Eleanor  Maranda ;  and  saw  too 
late  that  he  himself,  with  his  seasoned  airs,  had 
blocked  the  way! 

The  truth  was  that  Mr.  T.  Chauncey  Devitt,  Avhose 
interest  up  to  this  date  had  been  naively  concentrated 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  203 

on  himself,  now  discovered  with  a  novel  and  rather 
agreeable  commotion  of  the  senses  that  he  was  think- 
ing about  somebody  else.  Alas  for  all  those  young 
men  whose  broken  hearts  —  as  he  freely  confessed  — 
lay  at  his  door,  and  alas  in  particular  for  Lutie  More- 
head  !  Chauncey  was  already  comparing  her  to  Miss 
Maranda  with  the  most  disastrous  results.  Eleanor 
—  who  would  have  been  dumbfounded  to  know  that 
any  such  comparison  was  being  made  —  was  actually 
no  better-looking,  trait  for  trait,  than  the  other  girl, 
but  Chauncey  judged,  perhaps  correctly,  that  no  one 
would  look  twice  at  Lutie  with  Miss  Maranda  in  the 
room.  It  was  her  height ;  it  was  the  shapely  slimness 
of  her  figure ;  it  w^as  her  fine  black  hair,  wdth  the  wide 
riffle  running  through  it  from  her  temples,  from  the 
nape  of  her  neck;  it  was  the  movements  of  her  body, 
sure  and  dainty  as  those  of  a  Kentucky  thoroughbred ; 
it  was  —  the  difference  eluded  him,  yet  in  its  light 
poor  Lutie  became  a  gross,  tepid,  inert  creature  with- 
out a  single  allurement.  Anon,  the  desire  to  know 
what  this  goddess  had  thought  of  him,  Chauncey  De- 
vitt,  ravaged  him;  he  could  not  know!  He  might 
never  have  the  chance  of  speaking  to  her  again,  might 
never  even  see  her.  It  was  devastating,  romantically 
and  spectacularly  devastating;  it  recalled  all  the 
tales  of  defeated  passion  he  had  ever  read  in  prose 
or  verse,  history  or  fiction.  Betw^een  posing  before 
his  own  inw^ard  view  in  a  species  of  Claude  Melnotte 
role,  and  an  outward,  visible  pose  as  nearly  simulat- 
ing Mr.  Cook  as  he  could  manage,  Chauncey's  de- 
meanour for  a  while  w-as  so  saturnine  and  so  sur- 
charged with  tragedy  that  Mrs.  Devitt  was  convinced 
something  must  be  WTong  with  his  bodily  condition, 


201  THE  RUDDER 

and  treated  him  for  divers  ignoble  complaints  with 
equally  ignoble  remedies  until  his  appetite  and  re- 
bellious temper  reassured  her. 

All  this  of  course  did  not  interfere  with  a  resump- 
tion of  the  familiar  amorous  footing  with  Lutie. 
Only  young  Mr.  Devitt,  notwithstanding  his  profound 
acquaintance  with  the  eternal  feminine,  could  not 
have  been  much  more  subtle  than  the  average  man. 
For  his  carefully  careless  references  to  Miss  Maranda, 
his  clumsy  guiding  of  the  conversation  in  her  direc- 
tion speedily  aroused  Lutie's  suspicions.  "  Seems  to 
me  you're  awfully  interested  in  the  Marandas  all  of 
a  sudden/'  she  commented  sharply.  "^^  I  don't  know 
anything  much  about  'em,  except  what  I  hear  every 
now  and  then  down  to  the  shop.  You  needn't  to  ask 
me/' 

^^Well,  on  Pop's  —  on  my  father's  account,  you 
know  — " 

"  Aw,  rats !  You  never  killed  vourself  worrvin^- 
about  him  before,  and  he's  been  took  the  same  way 
two-three  times,"  said  Lutie.  After  a  moment  she 
added :  "  That  Nellie  Maranda  must  be  every  day 
of  thirty  years  old  —  twenty-six  or  seven  anyJiotv, 
She  and  Loring  are  engaged,  or  as  good  as."  And 
perceiving  some  tell-tale  expression  on  the  other's 
face,  she  repeated  the  news  with  jealous  satisfaction. 
"  Why,  don't  you  remember,  I  told  you  that  long  ago? 
Why,  I  thought  everybody  knew  tJiat.  She's  crazy 
about  him." 

Loring  again  I  It  seemed  as  if  he  were  doomed  for- 
ever to  be  clashing  with  that  unspeakable,  insupport- 
able personality.  It  did  not  make  it  any  more 
palatable  to  know  that  their  respective  positions  were 
such  that  Loring  and  he,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  were 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  205 

not  likely  ever  to  come  into  contact  at  all.  Young 
Amzi  with  his  money  and  his  tastes  lived  in  a  differ- 
ent world  from  that  of  Mike  Devitt's  son.  Even  busi- 
ness interests  would  scarcely  bring  them  together; 
for  Chauncey,  about  this  time,  went  into  the  office  of 
the  Federated  Teamsters  under  John  Dalton's  wing 
and  eye ;  and  Mr.  Dal  ton  felt  for  the  Ice-King  and  all 
his  kind  the  same  fondness  that  a  certain  notorious 
personage  is  said  to  entertain  for  holy  water. 

The  feeling  cannot  accurately  be  said  to  have  been 
mutual ;  Amzi  senior,  if  questioned,  would  probably 
have  gone  no  farther  than  the  statement  that  he 
"  hadn't  any  use  "  for  the  other.  He  was  too  prac- 
tical a  man  to  take  up  time  and  energy  merely  in  dis- 
approval of  anybod}^,  his  main  desire  in  life  being, 
as  he  would  have  said,  to  "  get  results,''  namely,  to 
have  something  to  show  for  every  slightest  expendi- 
ture, even  of  sentiment.  He  would  give  his  view  of 
Mike  Devitt's  seizure,  for  instance,  frankly,  but  with 
a  complete  detachment  as  of  a  business  that  no  way 
concerned  him. 

"  Heart  trouble  is  probably  what's  the  matter,"  he 
said ;  "  but  worry's  got  a  good  deal  to  do  with  it,  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised.  He's  been  having  trouble 
with  his  men,  or  rather  with  their  union  leaders,  here 
lately.  The  men  in  general  are  a  decent  enough  set, 
but  they've  got  a  lot  of  scalawags  to  run  'em.  It's 
alw^ays  the  way.  Seems  their  head  man  is  that  bad 
egg,  Jack  Dalton,  the  same  one  that  used  to  be  coun- 
cilman down  in  the  Thirteenth  Ward  —  right  in  T^^th 
the  gang.  The  fellow  seems  to  have  Devitt  right  un- 
der his  thumb ;  by  George,  sir,  the  man's  afraid  to  say 
his  soul's  his  own !  He  told  me  some  of  his  troubles 
here  the  other  day  up  at  Cambridge  at  the  Commence- 


206  THE  EUDDER 

ment;  Ms  boy  graduated  same  time  mine  did,  so  of 
course  we  ran  across  each  other.  I  didn't  want  to 
talk  business  there  but  he  would  do  it.  We  gave  him 
the  contract  for  this  road  out  to  Elmwood,  you  know, 
to  be  done  by  a  certain  date,  of  course,  and  he's  been 
working  on  it  right  along,  and  everything  going 
smooth,  until  here  the  other  day  he  fired  a  couple  of 
his  tarriers  for  coming  round  drunk  or  soldiering  on 
him,  or  something  —  some  perfectly  just  cause,  mind 
you.  Devitt's  an  honest  man  and  treats  everybody 
fairly.  Well,  then,  I  guess  these  two  hoboes  were 
part  of  Dalton's  outfit  —  handy-men  of  some  kind, 
you  understand  —  for  presently  along  comes  Dalton 
and  orders  them  put  back  on  the  job,  or  he'll  call  a 
strike  and  tie  everything  up  so  Devitt  can't  fill  his 
contract.  He  was  worrying  himself  sick  over  it. 
'  Why,  Mike,'  says  I,  ^  if  I  was  in  your  place,  I'd  tell 
Dalton  to  go  to — '  Mr.  Loring  named  the  locality 
with  vigour.  '  I'd  let  him  call  a  strike  till  he  was 
black  in  the  face,  and  if  the  men  quit,  I'd  hire  another 
gang,  and  let  'em  stay  quit !  Why,  they  can't  do  any- 
thing to  you ! '  I  says.  '  You  go  to  the  mayor,  and 
tell  him  how  it  is,  and  he'll  let  you  have  police  pro- 
tection in  case  there's  any  trouble.'  He  kind  of  hesi- 
tated, and  said  Dalton  was  a  friend  of  his!  Great 
friend  to  have,  hey?  But  I  expect  that's  true,  too; 
you  know  these  Irish  will  hang  together  in  spite  of 
everything.  And  then  Devitt,  though  he's  a  man  of 
considerable  force,  isn't  any  different  otherwise  from 
most  of  his  own  workmen ;  he  says  he's  for  the  union 
himself  —  wants  to  be  on  both  sides!  Anyhow,  he's 
all  sewed  uj)  with  'em  and  can't  break  away.  He  acts 
like  Dalton  owned  him.  And  we  call  this  a  free  coun- 
try!" 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  207 

However,  the  Elmwood  Road  contract  was  carried 
out  on  time,  and  to  everybody's  satisfaction,  for 
Michael  had  a  high  standard.  Also  he  made  a  good 
recovery  not  only  from  his  physical  ailment,  what- 
ever it  was,  bnt  from  the  fit  of  the  ''  blues  "  as  Norah 
characterised  it,  which  had  preceded  it.  For  things 
seemed  now  to  be  going  on  more  swimmingly  for  them 
than  ever  before.  The  "  Shamrock  Construction 
Company  "  took  on  more  work  than  at  any  period  of 
its  existence  hitherto,  was  obliged  to  double  its  force, 
and  erelong  to  open  an  office  —  an  office  with  a  desk 
and  a  safe,  and  a  telephone  and  a  stenogi'apher,  like 
any  business  man's  in  the  Kremlin  Building  where  it 
was  located.  That  was  a  proud  moment  for  Norah 
Devitt.  Her  Mike  with  an  office!  The  idea  pleased 
her  infinitelv  more  even  than  that  of  owning  their 
own  house.  She  could  not  keep  the  word  off  of  her 
tongue ;  and  went  about  among  their  friends,  none  of 
whom  were  so  fortunate,  with  casual  references  to 
Mr.  Devitt 's  having  just  gone  to  his  office,  to  his  hav- 
ing just  come  away  from  his  office,  to  her  own  visits 
to  the  offi.ce,  to  the  position  and  equipment  of  the 
office,  until  she  had  every  one  bored  to  the  final  gasp. 
Chauncey  was  in  an  office,  too ;  not  his  father's,  it  is 
true,  but  that  he  should  be  wanted  elsewhere  seemed 
to  Mrs.  Michael  an  extra  vindication  of  his  abilities. 
She  spared  nobody  the  details  of  his  engagement  by 
Mr.  Dalton. 

^'  Bound  and  determined  he  was  to  have  the  boy ! 
Don't  be  asking  me  what  'tis  that  Chauncey  does,  for 
I'll  never  tell  ye.  I  haven't  any  head  for  business. 
Mr.  Dalton  says  he's  the  makings  of  a  public  man  in 
him ;  he  says  the  boy's  a  born  speaker  —  at  meetings, 
ve  know,  and  the  like.     He  savs  thev've  often  a  need 


208  THE  RUDDER 

of  somebody  like  that  to  —  to  present  the  working- 
man's  cause,  he  says.  ^  Fine  talk,  Mr.  Dalton/  says 
I  —  I  know  him  well,  I  talk  right  up  to  him  — ^  Fine 
talk,  but  what  for  are  ye  taking  my  Timmie  —  Chaun- 
cey,  I  mean  —  what  for  are  ye  taking  him  off  hither 
and  yon  all  over  the  country  to  your  conventions  and 
goings-on  all  the  time?  Haven't  ye  nobody  to  do 
your  speechifying  but  just  Mm?  And  what's  it  all 
about  anyhow?'  I  asked  him.  He  laughed.  ^Why,' 
he  says,  ^  Mrs.  Devitt,  it's  all  in  the  paper.  Don't 
ye  ever  read  the  paper? '  And  sure  enough,  there  it 
was  with  T.  Chauncey  Devitt's  name  printed  out 
where  he  got  up  and  said  something!  The  paper's 
right  there  on  the  what-not,  Mrs.  Ryan,  ye  can  see 
for  yourself.  '  Ah,  well,  Mr.  Dalton,'  I  said  to  him, 
'  I'd  just  as  lief  have  Chauncey  at  home  even  if  you 
do  keep  him  all  day  long  at  the  office.'  Your  two 
boys  is  at  the  pipe-foundry  along  with  their  father, 
ain't  they,  Mrs.  Hulsmann?  Well,  ye'd  ought  to  be 
thankful  ye  can  get  them  off  ^dth  their  dinner- 
buckets  early  in  the  morning,  and  have  the  place  to 
yourself.  'Tis  an  awful  job  starting  my  two  men, 
each  one  to  their  office ;  the  day's  half  over  before  I'm 
through  with  it." 

There  was  a  solid  foundation  for  all  her  innocent 
maternal  bragging  and  boasting.  However  unde- 
fined the  labours  Chauncey  performed  "  in  the  office," 
he  did  indeed  travel  about  with  Mr.  Dalton,  to  Chi- 
cago, to  Indianapolis,  to  Denver  and  elsewhere,  and 
he  did  cut  some  figure  oratorically,  in  a  youthful  and 
modest  w^ay,  at  all  those  places.  As  time  went  on  his 
association  with  Dalton  and  by  consequence  with  the 
Federated  Teamsters  and  other  industrial  organisa- 
tions became  more  intimate,  his  championship  of  the 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  209 

workingman's  cause  more  ardent  and  outspoken  — 
or,  at  any  rate,  more  liable  to  get  into  print.  Cliaun- 
cey  felt  that  he  was  fulfilling  his  destiny,  he  was 
advancing  to  greatness  with  the  superb  ease  and  ra- 
pidity which  genius  commands,  which  he  had  always 
inwardl}'  predicted  for  himself.  From  the  moment 
when  he  received  the  first  request  for  a  photograph 
for  i3ublication,  when  the  first  reporter  called  upon 
him  for  an  interview,  he  knew  that  he  had  arrived. 
The  iDinnacle  was  just  what  he  had  dreamed  it;  such 
the  atmosphere  and  such  the  view.  He  had  plenty 
of  money,  he  dressed  better  than  Dalton,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  his  being  incomparably  better-looking,  he  was 
just  as  much  talked  about,  just  as  deferentially  ap- 
proached, he  —  no,  even  Chauncey  had  to  admit  to 
himself  that  he  owned  no  j)olitical  followers  or  lead- 
ers as  yet ;  not  yet  was  he  the  power  Jack  Dalton  was 
—  Jack  Dalton  whose  right-hand  man  he  was,  whom 
he  still  feared,  still  implicitly  obeyed.  Perhaps  he 
still  had  a  smile  for  Lutie  Morehead  —  which  is  the 
phrase  T.  Chauncey  himself  would  have  used  to  de- 
scribe his  lingering  regard;  but  Miss  Maranda,  or 
young  Mrs.  Amzi  Loring,  must  have  disappeared  from 
his  horizon  with  her  marriage.  It  is  certain  that 
after  that  first  meeting  he  did  not  see  her  again  for 
over  five  years. 


CHAPTER  IV 

DRIVING  out  towards  the  North  Hill,  and 
after  passing  through  Paradise  Park  and 
the  settlement  of  Murphyville,  the  visitor  to 
these  parts  will  come  to  Adams  Road,  which  the  gen- 
tleman with  the  megaphone  on  the  rear  platform  of 
the  sightseeing  automobile  will  not  fail  to  inform  the 
passengers  is  one  of  the  city's  handsomest  ^^  residential 
districts."  And  thereafter  he  will  call  attention  suc- 
cessively to  the  old  Gebhardt  place  —  now  a  private 
hospital  —  the  Andrew  J.  Grace  place,  the  Meigs 
place,  and  presently  among  the  rest  to  the  Loring 
place  — "  where  the  animal  fountain  is."  This  bit  of 
description,  if  brief,  is  adequate,  for  though  the  Lor- 
ing grounds  are  wide  and  varied,  little  but  the  "  ani- 
mal fountain  "  can  be  seen.  The  architect  to  whom 
Mr.  Loring  entrusted  the  renovation  of  the  property 
w^hen  he  bought  it  fifteen  or  twenty  years  ago,  evolved 
a  decorative  scheme  of  w^hich  the  most  marked  feature 
was  the  wall  laid  in  bricks  of  mellow  tones  with  pic- 
turesque bonding,  panels,  buttresses  and  so  on,  which 
defends  the  entire  street  frontage.  It  is  so  high  that 
one  may  only  see  above  it  receding  depths  of  foliage, 
or  sometimes  a  clear  space  of  sky,  cut  by  the  remote 
spires  of  poplars  —  a  classic  fragment  like  a  line  out 
of  Vergil.  Within,  one  quickly  fancies  steps,  borders, 
groves  and  balustrades  of  the  same  cool,  alien,  perfect 
design ;  without,  the  "  animal  fountain  "  offers  an  in- 
congruous, yet  withal  pleasing,  touch  of  neighbourli- 

210 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  211 

ness  and  homely  wayside  welcome.  It  is  nothing  but 
a  concrete  drinking-t rough,  suitably  dis^^osed  for  the 
needs  of  dogs  and  horses  against  the  wall  with  sup- 
ports and  a  dado  of  archaic  looking  creatures  inter- 
mingled in  the  friendly  fashion  of  the  Apocalypse,  and 
a  motto  in  rugged  lettering  from  the  liturgy  of  the 
Greek  Church  —  it  is  said  — :  "  And  also  for  these, 
O  Lord,  we  supplicate  Thy  great  tenderness  of  heart. 
For  Thou  hast  promised  to  save  both  man  and  beast, 
and  great  is  Thy  loving  kindness." 

It  was  put  up  by  young  Mrs.  Loring  during  her 
time,  rather  to  the  amusement  of  her  friends,  most 
of  whom,  since  Society  took  to  motor-cars,  had  ceased 
to  be  interested  in  horses,  and  who  thought,  more- 
over, that  the  carved  sentiment  was  of  an  ostentatious 
solemnity  not  in  good  taste.  They  shared,  in  some 
measure,  the  opinion  of  her  husband,  who  when  he  was 
in  a  bad  temper  would  grunt  that  the  d — d  thing  re- 
minded him  of  Spring  Grove  —  referring  to  the  local 
cemetery  —  and  declare  his  intention  of  having  it 
torn  down  at  once;  and  when  amiable  made  jokes 
about  automobiles  needing  water  and  loving  kind- 
ness too  —  not  the  most  brilliant  of  joke,  but  jokes 
at  which,  let  it  be  said,  Mrs.  Loring  invariably  smiled. 
You  would  think  that  a  man  could  ask  no  more  of  his 
wife  than  that  she  should  laugh  at  his  jokes;  then 
what  was  it  about  Eleanor's  obliging  smile  that  would 
send  Amzi  scowling  from  the  room,  or  cause  him  to 
break  forth  in  loud  unmannerly  upbraidings,  before 
the  servants,  before  guests,  anywhere,  in  any  com- 
pany? People  used  to  say  that  it  was  very  uncom- 
fortable to  entertain  or  be  entertained  by  the  Loring 
couple ;  there  seemed  to  be  so  much  ^'  friction  '' ;  you 
never  knew  what  was  going  to  happen.     The  fountain, 


212  THE  EUDDER 

it  was  reported,  was  a  mere  straws-show-which-waj- 
tlie-wind-blows  incident;  if  it  had  been  only  that  — ! 

But  this  was  after  they  had  been  married  two  or 
three  years.  In  the  beginning,  no  doubt,  both  were 
hajDpy  enough.  Amzi  admired  with  all  his  force  his 
handsome  wife  who  had  so  much  sense  and  spirit ;  he 
liked  her  smile  —  which  may  not  have  been  quite  the 
same  sort  of  smile  as  it  became  later  —  in  those  days, 
liked  her  readiness  of  tongue.  He  was  proud  of  her 
and  ineffably  proud  of  and  satisfied  with  himself  for 
acquiring  her ;  truly,  as  Cook  had  said,  he  was  in  love 
with  her  "  after  his  fashion,"  and  perhaps  it  was  no 
such  bad  fashion,  as  men  go.  Eleanor,  on  her  side, 
could  hoodwink  herself  into  believing  that  she  was 
happy,  whether  or  no;  it  is  a  trick  that  comes  natu- 
rally to  women.  She  could  put  out  of  her  mind  the 
fact  that  her  wedding  and  honeymoon  —  possibly  the 
bridegroom  himself !  —  w^ere  incredibly  unlike  every- 
thing she  had  ever  pictured,  at  variance  with  all  the 
standards  and  traditions  of  her  class,  accompanied 
by  the  sort  of  newspaper  notoriety  she  had  been 
trained  to  look  upon  as  abhorrent,  and  requiring  ex- 
planations that  must  end  by  becoming  irksome.  Amzi 
cared  nothing  for  all  this ;  he  never  gave  it  a  thought, 
so  why  should  she?  Eleanor  said  to  herself  with 
bravado. 

Upon  review,  she  found  that  she  could  scarcely  tell 
how  it  had  happened;  it  was  all  a  huddle  of  events. 
Between  them,  they  had  come  to  the  decision,  sud- 
denly, unaccountably,  without  rhyme  or  reason  —  as 
it  seemed  in  retrospect  —  and  then,  somehow,  all  at 
once,  with  stunning  ease  and  swiftness,  the  thing  was 
done !  She  was  always  able  to  call  up  irrelevant  and 
absurdly  non-essential  odds  and  ends,  such  as  the 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  213 

untimely  rawness  of  the  September  day,  the  look  of 
the  drugstore  where  she  had  waited  down-town  for 
Amzi,  two  girls  giggliugiy  striving  together  as  to 
which  should  pay  for  their  ice-cream-sodas,  Amzi  driv- 
ing up  in  the  red  car,  and  coming  in  and  nervously 
buying  chewing-gum.  They  had  looked  at  each  other, 
and  said:  ^' Oh,  here  you  are  I"  She  was  in  the 
strangest  muddle  at  seeing  him  —  relief,  regret,  a 
desperate  impulse  to  turn  back,  a  desperate  resolve 
to  go  forward  —  the  strangest  muddle.  Was  he,  too? 
He  was  silent,  chewing  steadily,  guiding  the  automo- 
bile, not  looking  at  her,  but  straight  ahead  with  a 
frown.  Crossing  the  bridge,  she  had  spoken  once: 
"  How  high  the  river  is  I  "  she  had  said.  She  remem- 
bered the  'squire's  little  stuffy  office  with  the  steam- 
heat  turned  on  prematurely,  a  wasp  buzzing  formid- 
ably up  and  down  the  cloudy-window-panes,  the 
'squire  himself  needing  a  clean  collar.  Amzi  had 
growled  at  him  to  ^'  cut  it  out "  when  he  facetiously 
suggested  that  kissing  the  bride  was  in  order;  but 
both  men  laughed  when  she  asked  in  perplexity  and 
uneasiness  if  they  were  really  married  now  —  if  that 
was  all  —  if  they  were  sure — ?  The  ceremony  had 
seemed  to  her  halting  and  insufficient.  Some  sort  of 
negro  porter,  scenting  a  tip,  was  hanging  about  out- 
side, and  eagerly  volunteered  to  crank  the  machine; 
three  or  four  boys  raised  a  yapping  for  '^  The  Newly- 
weds."  They  drove  off  at  a  great  pace,  but  once  back 
across  the  river,  were  fain  to  halt  —  down  on  Third 
Street  among  the  dravs  and  car-tracks,  to  the  liberallv 
expressed  dissatisfaction  of  the  gentry  employed 
thereabouts  —  while  they  tried  to  make  up  their 
minds  what  to  do  next !  In  the  end  they  went  out  to 
Schwartz's  Garden  on  the  hill-top  for  dinner;  it  was 


214  THE  EUDDER 

rather  cold  and  gloomy  at  the  little  tables  outdoors 
under  the  grape-arbours  with  the  tanbark  underfoot 
littered  with  falling  leaves;  they  had  champagne  and 
German  pancakes;  she  remembered  how  she  had 
laughed  and  laughed  hysterically  when  Amzi  said 
that  now  it  was  over,  he  felt  —  "  just  like  you  do 
when  you've  sat  down  on  a  chair  that  was  lower  than 
you  expected ! ''  And  then  they  took  the  seven  o'clock 
train  for  New  York. 

Oh,  yes,  she  was  entirely  happy  —  or  would  have 
been,  Eleanor  told  herself,  but  for  the  one  thing  that 
troubled  her,  a  haunting  feeling  that  she  had  some- 
how neglected  Fannie,  done  Fannie  an  injustice,  not 
confiding  in  her,  leaving  her  all  alone  to  bear  the 
brunt  of  what  Eleanor  chose  to  consider  her  step- 
mother's silly  tyranny.  To  be  sure,  she  thought,  with 
a  kind  of  wistful  humour,  her  championship  had  never 
accomplished  anything  but  the  making  poor  Fan  more 
miserable,  and  the  atmosphere  of  the  house  more  un- 
comfortable. Nevertheless,  up  till  now,  she  had  con- 
trived to  take  care  of  Fannie,  to  defend  her;  how 
would  it  be  after  this  desertion?  Characteristically 
enough,  it  never  came  into  her  head  to  impose  Fannie 
on  her  husband ;  she  recoiled  from  the  idea  of  asking 
him  for  anything  on  her  own  behalf.  That  attitude 
of  stiff-necked  independence  may  not  have  been  the 
proper  or  natural  one  for  a  young  bride  very  much 
in  love  with  her  husband,  but  Eleanor  deliberately 
closed  her  eyes  to  certain  aspects  of  the  married  state, 
extinguished  debate  by  telling  herself  again  that  she 
was  perfectly  happy.  Except  when  she  thought  of 
Fannie,  that  is.  There  were  times,  too,  when  she  was 
conscious  of  something  unsatisfactory  in  her  uncle's 
attitude.     He  was  tact  and  kindness  itself,  unobtrus- 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  215 

ivelj  skilful  about  falling  in  with  Amzi's  wa^^s,  with 
her  own  ways,  invariably  saving  the  right  thing,  un- 
derstanding everything,  making  allowances  for  every- 
thing—  in  conscience  she  could  have  asked  no  more 
of  him.  Yet  Eleanor  found  herself  illogically  resent- 
ing the  perfection  of  his  behaviour;  Uncle  Marshall 
was  too  abnormally  humane^  she  declared  inwardly 
with  vrry  amusement. 

Meanwhile  they  heard  from  the  elder  Loring  —  a 
verdict,  however,  which  they  had  awaited  in  no  sus- 
pense, for  Amzi  announced  confidently  from  the  first 
that,  "  it  would  be  all  right  with  Father.-'  And  in 
fact,  that  was  what  Amzi  senior  intimated  in  so  many 
words :  ^'  All  right.  Keep  me  posted  on  movements. 
Come  home  when  ready,''  he  telegraphed  laconically. 
They  went  back,  accordingly,  as  soon  as  the  "  World's 
Series''  was  concluded;  it  was  only  a  week.  Garry 
met  them  at  the  station,  smiling  and  awkward  and 
mumbling  his  respects  to  Mrs.  Loring  with  a  red  face. 
Eleanor  had  some  difliculty  in  controlling  her  owti 
shyness  and  excitement;  but  Amzi  was  quite  the  old 
married  man  by  this  time.  He  had  smoked,  or  slept 
or  read  the  paper  all  the  way  out  from  New  York, 
leaving  Eleanor  to  her  own  entertainment;  and  now 
nodded  shortly  to  Garry,  and  took  the  steering-wheel 
in  the  most  matter-of-fact  style  in  the  world.  They 
drove  out  to  the  house;  and  as  they  turned  into  the 
drive  between  the  brick  pillars  —  the  ^^  animal  foun- 
tain ''  was  not  there  by  the  gate  then,  of  course  — 
Amzi  One  came  out  to  the  head  of  the  steps. 

He  helped  Eleanor  out,  and  shook  hands  with  her 
and  with  his  son,  and  said:  "Well,  well,  well  I 
Took  snap  judgment  on  us,  didn't  you?  "  And  there 
was  a  kind  of  irresolute  pause,  both  of  the  men  look- 


216  THE  RUDDER 

ing  to  Eleanor  to  relieve  the  situation  by  some  femi- 
nine expedient,  probably  an  outburst  of  talk.  ^'  Nice 
day,  isn't  it?  "  said  old  Amzi  at  last,  clearing  his 
throat.  Eleanor  did  not  know  whether  she  wanted 
to  laugh  or  cry,  but  common-sense  kept  her  from  do- 
ing either. 

"  The  place  looks  lovely !  "  she  said,  looking  straight 
at  Mr.  Loring,  Avith  her  head  up,  in  a  way  she  had. 
Indeed,  the  fine  bulk  of  the  house,  with  its  chimneys 
hung  with  creepers,  at  the  top  of  lawns  and  terraces 
descending  towards  a  far  view  of  the  river,  made  a 
very  beautiful  and  composed  picture ;  old  Amzi  liked 
her  straightforward  admiration.  For  a  moment  she 
seemed  to  him  not  at  all  a  young,  freshly  married 
woman,  but  like  a  boy  —  a  nice,  bright,  companion- 
able boy,  spirited  enough,  but  properly  diffident  in 
the  presence  of  his  elders. 

"  Yes,  I  think  myself  it's  pretty  hard  to  beat  just 
now,''  he  assented  warmly.  '^  But  if  you  have  a 
chance  to  see  it  in  the  spring  —  of  course  you  will, 
though — "  he  halted,  the  cloud  of  embarrassment 
closing  in  again.  "  Your  room  —  your  rooms  —  that 
is,  yours  and  Amzi's  rooms  are  all  ready.  That  is,  I 
told  some  of  these  girls  —  the  hired  help,  you  know  — 
to  get  'em  ready,  and  I  expect  they  did.  I  expect  it's 
all  right.  There  isn't  any  lady  around  to  look  after 
things  like  that,  of  course,  but  I  —  I  guess  you'll  find 
everything  all  right." 

"Sure!  Come  on,  Eleanor!"  said  young  Amzi. 
"  My  same  old  room,  hey.  Dad?  " 

"  Why  —  er  —  yes  —  only  there's  plenty  of  room 
—  plenty  more,  if  you  want  more/'  said  the  other,  ac- 
tually purpling  all  over  his  face.  ^^  Phew! ''  he  ejac- 
ulated inwardly,  as  they  retreated.     Though  of  any- 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  217 

thing  but  a  romantic  turn,  it  struck  tlie  elder  Mr.  Lor- 
ing  that  joung  people  took  this  thing  of  getting  mar- 
ried in  an  astonishingly  literal  and  phlegTaatic  man- 
ner nowadays.  Of  course  a  man  — !  But  the  girl, 
too,  w  as  as  cool  as  a  cucumber !  "  Mary  and  I 
weren't  that  way  when  we  were  married  —  or  Mary 
wasn't  anyhow  I  "  he  thought.  His  wife  had  been  dead 
twenty  years;  she  did  not  live  long.  Old  Amzi  him- 
self was  really  not  so  very  old  —  not  more  than  fifty- 
five  or  -six,  it  is  likely. 

There  was,  in  truth,  as  much  room  as  anybody  could 
possibly  desire  in  the  great  old  house  which  had  been 
rejuvenated  from  end  to  end  expensively,  but  in  the 
best  of  taste,  Mr.  Loring  having  engaged  a  well-known 
firm  of  decorators  for  that  sole  purpose.  ^'  Oh,  the 
hapi)y,  happy  decorators,  with  everything  their  own 
way,  and  no  women  bothering  around !  "  Eleanor  said 
when  he  told  her  this ;  and  made  him  laugh. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they  did  have  a  pretty  good 
time,"  he  said ;  ''  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,  and 
told  them  so.  That's  what  I  was  paying  them  for  — 
the  know-how.  I  wasn't  entirely  satisfied  either,  right 
at  first,  but  it's  grown  on  me  since.  Now  that  big 
mantel-piece  over  there  with  nothing  on  it  but  those 
stone  baskets  full  of  stone  peaches  and  grapes  and 
things  —  seemed  to  me  a  kind  of  a  joke  at  first.  A 
solid  marble  apple  that  you  could  knock  a  man  over 
with,  you  know?  Nothing  cosy  about  it  somehow. 
But  I  like  it  now  I've  got  used  to  it." 

This  was  during  dinner,  by  the  end  of  which  cere- 
mony, Eleanor  and  her  father-in-law  found  them- 
selves on  the  way  to  being  friendly  enough,  somewhat 
to  the  surprise  of  each.  He  was  in  the  middle  of  a 
humorous  account  of  some  of  his  experiences  with  the 


218  THE  EUDDER 

reporters,  when  one  of  these  latter  called.  Mr.  Lor- 
ing  counteracted  young  Amzi's  grufl  refusal  to  be  in- 
terviewed by  consenting  himself  with  the  utmost  ur- 
banity. 

^^  Here  now,  you  don't  want  to  send  out  any  mes- 
sages like  that!  "  he  interposed,  rising;  "  I'll  see  him. 
I've  been  seeing  'em  all.  It's  always  better  to  see 
'em."  And  when  the  extras  came  out  with  headlines : 
"  Ice-King  Forgives.  Runaway  Son  and  Bride  Re- 
ceived With  Open  Arms/  accompanied  by  pictures 
of  all  of  them,  of  the  house,  the  grounds,  the  automo- 
bile and  everybody  and  everything  else  even  remotely 
concerned  down  to  Eleanor's  Angora  kitten,  Amzi 
One  himself  brought  them  to  her,  chuckling.  "  Now 
you  see  what  they  do  to  you  when  they  want  to  be  real 
nice!  So  you  can  judge  what  it  would  have  been  if 
they'd  had  it  in  for  you,  for  any  reason !  "  he  pointed 
out,  infinitely  pleased  that  she  joined  in  his  laugh. 
He  said  to  himself  that  he  liked  a  woman  that  could 
see  a  joke. 

Also  he  liked  the  good  taste  —  he  called  it  good 
sense  —  which  prompted  the  young  woman  to  with- 
draw after  a  reasonable  while,  and  leave  father  and 
son  together  for  that  thrashing  out  of  certain  prac- 
tical questions  vrhich  was  due  sooner  or  later.  Never- 
theless, in  a  few  minutes  he  would  have  been  glad  if 
she  had  stayed,  for  of  the  two  men,  the  elder  felt  much 
the  more  awkward.  He  cleared  his  throat  and 
fidgeted,  hoping  Amzi  would  make  a  beginning;  but 
as  his  son  sat  stolidly  smoking,  apparently  uncon- 
scious that  anything  needed  to  be  said  and  that  it 
would  become  him  to  say  it  first,  Mr.  Loring  at  length 
remarked  tentatively:  "Well,  son,  I  guess  I've  got 
to  make  up  my  mind  to  your  being  grown  up.     I 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  219 

thought  I  realised  it  already^  but  I  didn't  —  not  fully. 
Seeing  you  with  a  wife  has  kind  of  opened  my  eyes, 
I  suppose." 

"  Uh-huh,"  said  the  other,  unsentimentally. 

"Nice  girl,  too,  I  judge.  And  pretty  —  no  two 
ways  about  that!''  said  old  Amzi.  "By  George,  I 
never  saw  a  finer  figure  on  a  woman  I  " 

"  Uh-huh,"  said  Amzi  Two  again.     He  yawned. 

After  a  silence,  Mr.  Loring  himself  went  to  the 
point ;  going  to  the  point  at  once  would,  indeed,  have 
been  his  preference,  pourparlers  not  being  at  all  in 
his  line,  though  this  time  the  circumstances  had 
seemed  to  demand  them.  "Well  now,  Amzi,"  said 
he ;  "  I  guess  it's  time  for  us  to  have  a  little  talk  about 
what  you're  going  to  do.  I  haven't  spoken  to  you 
about  it  hitherto,  because  a  young  man  naturally 
wants  to  look  around  first,  for  a  while,  and  I  didn't 
see  any  reason  why  you  shouldn't  take  your  time  to  it. 
But  a  man  that's  got  a  wife,  and  maybe'll  have  a 
family  before  long,  ought  to  have  some  plans  about  his 
future.     Now  — " 

"  Aw,  hire  a  hall  I  "  interrupted  young  Amzi,  yaT\Ti- 
ing  again.  "  I  don't  need  anybody  to  tell  me  all 
that !  "  He  threw  away  the  stub  of  his  cigar,  and 
reached  for  a  pipe,  looking  up  at  his  father  from 
under  his  brows,  as  he  began  to  fill  it.  "  Say,  you 
must  have  hated  like  sin  to  cut  loose  at  me  with  that 
sermon.  Dad  I  "  he  observed  \\ith  a  grin.  He  blew  out 
the  stem  of  the  pipe.  "  Don't  you  worry  I  I've  got 
it  all  framed  up.  I'm  going  with  the  Pacemakers 
this  coming  season — " 
"  The  Pacemakers?  '' 

"  Yeah.     You  know.     The  same  team  I  played  with 
before.     I   met   McFarland  while   I   was   East,   and 


220  THE  EUDDER 

signed  up  with  him.  Play  left  field,  of  course,  like  I 
always  do." 

Mr.  Loring  sat  with  his  hands  on  his  knees,  listen- 
ing. If  any  private  castles  of  his  went  crashing  into 
nothingness  at  that  moment,  his  immobile  face  gave 
no  sign.  He  merely  inquired :  "  How  much  do  they 
give  you? '' 

"  Eighteen  hundred.  That's  good  enough  for  a 
starter  —  of  course  it's  only  one  of  these  alfalfa-cir- 
cuit teams,  I  know  that  as  well  as  anybody.  I'm  not 
going  to  stay  with  them  all  my  days.  I'll  be  in  one  of 
the  big  leagues  inside  a  year  or  two,  or  I'll  know  the 
reason  why,"  Amzi  Two  prophesied  coolly.  "  No  use 
blowing  around  about  it  though  beforehand,  you 
know.  Get  there  first,  and  then  do  jour  bloTvdng,  if 
you  want  to  blow^  —  that's  my  idea !  " 

Mr.  Loring  did  not  speak  for  a  moment.  Then  he 
asked  another  question:  "How  old  are  you,  Amzi? 
IVe  lost  count." 

"  Twenty-three." 

"Twenty-three?"  repeated  the  father.  "Well!" 
He  stared  thoughtfully  at  the  other  lying  almost  on 
his  back  in  the  deep  chair  with  legs  stretched  out 
and  hands  clasped  under  his  head.  "  Twenty-three. 
That's  old  enough  to  know  your  own  mind,"  said  Mr. 
Loring  with  detachment.  "  I  expect  that's  more  than 
I  was  making  when  I  was  your  age,  plugging  along 
down  at  the  old  B.  and  O.  They  pay  bigger  salaries 
for  every  kind  of  job  nowadays.  As  I  understand  it, 
in  the  baseball  business  you  don't  have  to  work  the 
Tvhole  year,  either." 

"  'Bout  eight  months.  Of  course  you've  got  to  keep 
yourself  in  something  like  condition  between  times. 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  221 

We  go  down  to  the  training-camp  —  it's  at  Galveston 
this  year  —  in  February." 

There  was  another  prolonged  silence.  Mr.  Loring 
shifted  his  legs,  and  selected  a  cigar  for  himself  with 
minute  care.  Nibbling  the  point  off  of  it,  he  said: 
^'  Humph  —  er  —  what  does  your  wife  think  about  it, 
Amzi?  " 

"  Eleanor?  She  hasn't  got  anything  to  think  about 
it  —  or  say  about  it,  or  do  about  it,  for  that  matter. 
You  can't  have  women  mixing  in.'' 

^^OJi!''  After  a  further  meditative  interval,  old 
Amzi  said :  "  The  reason  I  asked  was  I  was  wonder- 
ing what  she  was  going  to  do  while  you  were  off  on 
your  trips.     Of  course  she  can  stay  right  here,  but  — " 

"  Oh,  she's  coming  along.  They  often  take  their 
wives.  Pay  her  expenses  yourself,  of  course.  The 
management  couldn't  be  expected  to  do  that." 

Mr.  Loring  moved,  making  an  inarticulate  sound. 
"  Well  but,  look  here,  son  — "  said  he,  cautiously. 
"  How  about  that,  anyhow?  What  kind  of  a  lot  are 
these  ball-players,  and  the  women  they  have  around? 
Seems  to  me  — " 

"  Oh,  Lord,  now  you're  beginning  I  "  Amzi  Two  ejac- 
ulated in  impatient  disgust.  "  Mr.  Cook  started  off 
with  that,  and  Eleanor  wanted  to  know  the  first  thing ! 
'  See  here,'  I  said  to  her :  '  If  they're  good  enough  for 
me,  they're  good  enough  for  you  I  I  don't  want  any 
of  that  fool  society  flub-dub.  You'll  just  come  along 
and  behave  yourself,  and  not  put  on  any  fool  airs. 
You've  got  plenty  of  sense,  and  here's  where  you  have 
a  chance  to  show  it ! '  That  shut  her  up.  She  may 
as  well  know  first  as  last  that  I  won't  stand  for  any 
nonsense,"  he  concluded  ominously. 


222  THE  KUDDER 

The  elder  Loring,  through  a  halo  of  tobacco  smoke, 
surveyed  his  son  with  the  far,  indecipherable  coun- 
tenance of  the  Sphynx.  "  You're  old  enough  to  know 
your  own  mind,  Amzi,''  said  he  again.  "  And  — "  he 
added  in  complete  philosophical  detachment,  as  be- 
fore; "  and  w^hat  you  don't  know  you'll  find  out!  " 


CHAPTER  V 

MR.  LORING  junior's  prowess  in  left  field 
was  such  that  at  the  end  of  two  seasons 
he  was  drafted  into  one  of  the  major 
leagues  even  as  he  had  predicted,  along  with  a,  great 
number  of  other  eligibles  of  whom  he  was  among  the 
few  who,  it  transpired,  could  '^deliver  the  goods'' 
as  he  himself  stated.  Amzi  Two  batted  "  around  the 
300-mark,"  acquired  the  nickname  of  "  Butch  "  Lor- 
ing,  and  invariably  got  a  rousing  reception  from  the 
bleachers  when  he  trotted  out  to  his  position,  on  the 
home  gi'ounds.  In  foreign  territory  he  was,  if  not 
popular,  at  least  respected,  owing  to  his  ability  to 
return  any  blackguarding  with  equal  fluency,  and 
moreover  to  back  up  his  utterances  by  such  practical 
demonstrations  as  going  over  to  the  benches  and  ad- 
ministering correction  to  any  member  of  the  audience 
whose  manners  displeased  him,  or  for  that  matter  to 
any  umpire  or  fellow-player.  In  the  course  of  time, 
these  habits  cost  him  numerous  suspensions  and  fines 
w^hich  latter,  however,  he  was  said  to  be  so  well  able 
to  pay  that  they  did  not  "  hurt  him  much '' ;  and  he 
was  also  said  to  drink  more  than  was  seemly  once  in 
a  while,  but  "not  enough  to  hurt  him  much" — to 
quote  public  opinion  again. 

After  the  first  year,  Mrs.  Amzi  stayed  at  home.  To 
be  accurate,  she  came  back  very  suddenly  and  unex- 
pectedly in  the  middle  of  the  second  season,  and  never 
accompanied  her  husband  again.     At  the  beginning, 

223 


224  THE  KUDDER 

she  liad  been  most  enthusiastic  about  these  journey- 
ings;  according  to  her,  they  Avere  fascinatingly  in- 
formal and  adventurous.  She  was  full  of  humorous 
anecdotes  of  the  queer  third-  or  fourth-  or  even  tenth- 
rate  towns  and  hotels  where  they  stopjDed,  the  people 
they  met,  the  baseball  magnates,  the  players  and  their 
ladies,  the  way  they  dressed,  talked,  lived;  her  tale 
was  wonderfully  keen  and  sparkling.  People  said 
that  it  was  all  done  to  save  her  face;  that  it  was  a 
desperate  bluff  to  make  everybody  believe  that  she 
was  happy  in  her  life,  and  her  choice,  maybe  to  make 
herself  believe  it.  Her  friends  pitied  and  admired 
her,  and  were  angry  with  her,  and  gossiped  about  her 
all  at  once. 

What  happened  that  second  season  nobody  liked  to 
inquire.  Perhaps  some  good-looking  young  pitcher 
was  too  attentive;  perhaps  the  other  women  were 
jealous,  and  made  horrid  scenes;  perhaps  Eleanor 
offended  the  baseball  circles  unconsciously  —  or  con- 
sciously !  They  said  she  was  capable  of  it !  —  Per- 
haps her  own  high  temper  rebelled  at  last.  All  sorts 
of  rumours  went  the  rounds,  but  not  even  her  near- 
est friends,  not  even  her  own  sister,  knew  to  a  cer- 
tainty. But  that  something  grave  and  final  had  come 
to  pass,  they  were  all  sure;  her  return  was  too  pre- 
cipitate not  to  arouse  suspicion,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
fact  that  thereafter,  she  remained  at  home,  never  so 
much  as  setting  foot  inside  the  ball-i)ark  even  when 
Amzi's  team  was  playing  in  town.  Besides,  there  was 
that  visible  "  friction."  It  was  amazing  —  those  who 
knew  her  best  said  —  that  a  girl  like  Eleanor  Loring 
would  stand  for  one  minute  the  way  her  husband 
talked  and  acted  to  her;  he  was  so  loud,  so  domineer- 
ing, so  "  common  "  in  a  word.     It  was  only  what  was 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  225 

to  have  been  expected ;  impossible  to  understand  why 
she  had  married  him  in  the  first  place  I  On  the  other 
hand,  it  could  not  be  denied  —  they  said  —  that  Xellie 
wasn't  yery  nice  to  Mm  at  times.  You  know  Nellie 
Maranda ;  that  nasty,  quiet  waj'  she  had,  when  she  felt 
like  it  I  Anyhow  the  whole  business  was  dreadful, 
and  they  could  not  see  how  it  was  going  to  end. 

The  strange  thing  was  that  all  this  time  Eleanor 
seemed  to  get  along  most  amicably  with  the  elder  Lor- 
ing.  He  must  haye  known  all  about  everything  that 
was  going  on,  he  must  have  seen  it  all.  But  he  and 
Eleanor  were  good  friends  enough,  and  there  was  no 
intimation  of  his  having  had  any  break  with  his  son. 
Amzi  senior  was,  in  fact,  very  much  absorbed  in  his 
business,  in  comparison  to  which  baseball  games  or 
young  married  peoples'  quarrels  were  to  him  of  slight 
interest.  One  might  have  supposed  that  at  his  age, 
and  with  the  money  he  had  already  made,  he  would 
have  relaxed  a  little,  or  delegated  a  part  of  his  labours 
and  responsibilities  to  some  trustworthy  subordinate ; 
on  the  contrary  he  worked  as  hard  as  ever  he  had 
worked  at  the  outset  of  his  career,  up  early,  visiting 
from  factory  to  factory,  interviewing  superintendents, 
hands,  wagon-drivers,  cutting  down  expenses  here, 
making  new  installations  there,  experimenting,  im- 
proving, vigilant,  tireless,  incomparably  efficient. 
Every  summer  he  methodically  took  a  vacation  of  four 
weeks.  "  Well,  all  work  and  no  play  makes  Jack  a 
dull  boy.  I  guess  I'll  go  fishing,"  were  the  words  in 
which  he  used  yearly  to  publish  the  approach  of  this 
event.  He  always  went  to  the  same  place,  one  of  the 
Wisconsin  lakes ;  and  when  his  month  was  up,  would 
reappear,  sunburned,  mosquito-bitten  and  refreshed, 
and  apply  his  shoulder  to  the  wheel  with  more  zest 


226  THE  RUDDER 

than  ever.  At  intervals  he  made  a  business-trip,  to 
all  the  larger  cities;  he  was  a  prominent  member  of 
the  Chamber  of  Commerce,  and  frequently  obliged 
to  receive  and  entertain  visiting  commercial  notables ; 
otherwise  he  had  no  social  life.  Every  Wednesday 
night  he  went  to  the  theatre,  and  every  Saturday  had 
a  party  of  five  prosperous  old  cronies  to  play  poker. 
The  stakes  were  high,  and  there  was  a  liberal  supply 
of  the  good  Bourbon  County  product ;  but  these  hard- 
headed  old  boys  always  contrived  to  separate  at  some- 
thing after  midnight  with  a  perfect  propriety  of  de- 
meanour, and  judging  by  Amzi  One  himself,  turned 
up  at  the  usual  hour  next  morning,  severally  as  fresh 
as  so  many  daisies  I 

In  all  this,  young  Mrs.  Loring  naturally  had  no 
portion ;  but  neither  had  her  husband.  Loring  senior 
was  not  going  to  change  the  habits  of  years  merely 
because  of  the  presence  of  a  son  and  a  daughter-in- 
law  in  his  household.  He  let  them  go  their  way, 
sagaciously  making  no  comments  and  offering  no  ad- 
vice. Some  people  reported  that  the  younger  Amzi's 
choice  of  a  profession  was  a  severe  disappointment  to 
the  older ;  but  there  could  have  been  no  solid  founda- 
tion for  such  a  story.  Young  Amzi  was  a  success- 
ful man,  commanding  a  high  salary  in  an  honest 
trade;  no  father  as  sensible  as  Mr.  Loring  would  ask 
more.  One  is  reminded  of  that  little  farcical  sketch 
Batter  Up!  by  Marshall  Cook,  which  was  travelling 
the  vaudeville  circuit  about  this  time.  One  character 
says  to  another  with  contempt :  "  But  So-and-So  is 
nothing  but  a  ball-player ! "  The  other  retorts : 
"  Sure  I  He's  the  best  second  baseman  in  the  league. 
Now  you  tell  us  what  you^re  the  best  man  in  the 
country  at !  "     Mr.  Loring  went  to  see  the  play  two  or 


THE  WAGON  x\ND  THE  STAR  227 

three  times,  and  recommended  it  strongly  to  every- 
body be  knew. 

Eleanor  first  won  tbe  Ice-King's  regard  by  the  un- 
swerving tact  with  which  she  managed  her  relations 
with  his  servants.  She  was  not  mistress  in  the  house ; 
the  position  presented  difficulties  of  which  Mr.  Loring 
who  had  dealt  with  underlings  all  his  life  was  thor- 
oughly aware.  Eleanor  must  have  conducted  herself 
in  accordance  with  old  Amzi's  formless  creed  of  fair- 
ness, prudence,  dignity  and  civility,  and  he  knew  that 
the  performance  called  imperatively  for  a  good  head, 
as  well  as  a  good  heart.  A  dull  woman  might  have 
made  him  uncomfortable.  As  it  was,  Eleanor  added 
an  unobtrusive  decorative  touch ;  and  she  "  grew  on 
him  "  like  the  rest  of  the  decorations.  He  liked  com- 
ing home  and  dressing  and  going  down  to  his  hand- 
some dinner-table  and  sitting  in  company  with  this 
handsome  daughter-in-law,  whom  he  privately  con- 
sidered an  "  elegant  lady  " —  the  most  elegant  he  had 
even  seen.  Sometimes  he  wondered  why  it  was  that 
she  and  Amzi  irritated  each  other  so;  lie  could  get 
along  with  either  one  of  them!  From  time  to  time 
he  gave  her  presents  —  sums  of  money  of  such  stag- 
gering proportions  that  Eleanor  at  first  protested. 

"  But  it's  more  than  my  whole  income  —  it's  more 
than  I've  ever  had  in  my  life  —  I  don't  mean  at  one 
time,  I  mean  my  whole  life  —  why,  I  can't  spend  it  I  " 
she  expostulated. 

"Can't,  hey?"  said  old  Amzi,  amused  at  her  con- 
sternation. "  Never  you  mind  about  that!  You'll 
get  away  with  it  fast  enough.  There  never  was  a 
woman  yet  that  couldn't.  That's  all  right,  too.  I 
like  to  see  you  well  dressed.  I  like  to  be  well  dressed 
myself."     Which  was  true;  Mr.  Loring  was  no  fop^ 


228  THE  RUDDER 

but  he  undeniably  had  an  exacting  taste  in  waist- 
coats. 

It  was  upon  this  very  matter  of  pocket-money  that 
they  had  their  first  —  their  only  —  disagreement ; 
even  then  old  Amzi  was  rather  puzzled  than  put  out 
by  her  behaviour.  She  went  down  town  one  snapping 
cold  day  in  early  autumn  w^ith  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  he  had  given  her  on  the  understanding  that 
she  was  to  buy  a  set  of  furs  with  it.  Mr.  Loring 
seldom  made  any  conditions  about  the  use  of  his 
largesse,  but  this  time,  having  hai)pened  to  see  some 
fashionable  actress  with  a  muff  and  collar  that  took 
his  fancy,  it  pleased  him  to  order  Eleanor  to  get  the 
same.  "  She's  a  good  deal  on  your  style,  tall  and  slim 
with  black  hair,  or  a  wig  —  all  made  up,  of  course, 
but  she  put  me  in  mind  of  you.  Now  I  want  you  to 
get  that,"  he  enjoined  her  seriously.  And  thinking 
of  it  again  as  they  sat  over  their  coffee  after  dinner, 
in  the  sun-room  :  "  Well,  did  you  buy  'em?  ''  he  asked 
smilingly. 

"  Why  —  I  —  no,"  said  Eleanor,  with  a  troubled 
look.     "  No,  I  didn't.     I  was  going  to  tell  you." 

"  Two  hundred  and  fifty  wouldn't  reach?  "  queried 
Amzi.  "  But  you  surely  could  get  something  on  the 
same  order,  couldn't  you?  " 

"Oh,  yes  —  oh,  it  was  2^^("nty!  Only  —  I  bought 
them  and  then  I  decided  not  to  take  them." 

"What  was  the  matter?  " 

Eleanor  looked  wistfully  at  her  father-in-law,  won- 
dering if  he  would  understand;  it  did  not  help  mat- 
ters to  realise  suddenly  that  she  herself  hardly  under- 
stood. "  Well,  you  know  I  went  down  to  get  them  — 
and  I  think  you  were  very  kind  to  want  me  to  have 
them  —  and  I  really  thought  I  w^anted  them  myself 


i 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  229 

—  I  picked  out  a  perfectly  beautiful  set  — "  she  began, 
colouring-  high,  moving  the  cups  and  saucers  about 
with  nervous  fingers.  ^^  I  saw  some  other  things,  and 
so  I  stayed  quite  late,  shopping  — '' 

"  She's  gone  over  the  amount  I  "  thought  old  Amzi, 
as  she  hesitated;  and  he  frowned.  He  disliked  that; 
nobody  had  any  excuse  for  exceeding  his  gifts,  which, 
he  prided  himself  were  always  ample  —  yes,  more 
than  ample,  by  George  I  Few  men  were  as  free- 
handed I     "Well?''  he  said  aloud,  shortly. 

The  tone  spurred  her ;  she  faced  him  fearlessly  now, 
and  told  the  rest  of  her  story  with  that  defiant 
straightforwardness,  which  at  heart,  pleased  him.  "  I 
had  sent  Garry  home,  so  I  took  the  Adams  Road  car, 
and  it  was  crowded  with  workmen  going  home  —  hod- 
carriers  and  day-labourers  with  dinner-pails  —  that 
kind  of  men,  all  of  them  dirty  and  tired  as  they  could 
be.  There  wasn't  an  overcoat  in  the  lot ;  they  had  on 
their  ragged  working-clothes,  not  even  flannel  shirts, 
just  jeans,  and  their  overalls  were  plastered  with 
clay  and  mud,  and  wet  through  —  and  it's  cold  —  you 
know  how  cold  it  is.  One  of  them  —  he  was  a 
coloured  man  —  was  hanging  to  a  strap  just  in  front 
of  me,  and  I  heard  him  say  to  another:  ^Ah  jus' 
gotter  have  a  pair  of  shoes  somehow  or  othah.  Ah 
jus'  plain  'hJceged  ter  raise  three  dollahs  somehow  an' 
git  me  a  pair  of  shoes.  Wintah's  comin".'  He  didn't 
say  it  in  a  complaining  way  at  all  —  just  in  the  or- 
dinary course  of  talk  —  just  as  if  he  were  speaking 
about  the  weather  or  politics.  And  the  other  one 
didn't  seem  to  think  anything  of  it  either.  And  their 
feet  were  out  of  their  wretched,  broken  old  boots  — 
both  of  them.     Their  feet  were  fairly  on  the  ground 

—  dreadful  feet,  perfectly  lead-coloured  with  the  cold, 


230  THE  KUDDER 

and  with  great  cracks  in  their  heels!  It  was  dread- 
ful I  " 

"  Well? ''  said  Mr.  Loring  again  as  she  paused,  but 
with  a  different  inflection  now,  one  indicating  pro- 
found and  amazed  curiosity.     ^^Well?" 

"I  tell  you  it  was  horrible!^'  cried  out  Eleanor; 
she  made  a  violent  gesture  with  her  two  hands. 
"  There  I  sat,  and  I  had  just  spent  hundreds  of  dol- 
lars for  fiirSy  and  idiotic  clothes,  and  here  were  those 
two  men  wanting  nothing  but  shoes  —  three-dollar 
shoes  I ''  She  had  to  stop  to  control  her  trembling 
lips.  "I  couldn^t  do  it  after  that — I  couldn't  do 
it !  " 

"  Couldn't  do  what?  " 

"  I  couldn't  go  around  wearing  those  furs/'  said 
Eleanor,  fiercely.  ^^  When  I  got  home,  I  telephoned 
and  told  them  that  I'd  changed  my  mind,  and  that  I 
wouldn't;  take  them.  Me  with  furs  —  and  those  poor 
men!  If  they  had  wanted  something  magnificent  — 
something  way  beyond  them  —  if  they  had  been  envy- 
ing somebod}^,  or  jealous  of  somebody  —  but  they  only 
wanted  shoes!  Just  cheap  shoes  —  just  something 
to  cover  their  feet  and  keep  them  from  freezing  — 
that  was  all  they  asked.  Why,  they  didn't  even  ask 
—  they  weren't  beggars  —  they  were  just  i)lanning 
how  they  could  earn  enough  money  for  shoes.  It's 
too  pitiful!  It's  all  wrong!  I  have  so  much  that  I 
don't  need  at  all.  Look  at  this  room !  Look  at  this 
dress !     It's  all  wrong !  " 

Mr.  Loring  obediently  looked.  His  gaze  travelled 
automatically  all  around  the  sun-room  which  was  a 
charming  place  with  latticed  walls,  interrupted  sym- 
metrically by  casements  clothed  in  bright  chintz; 
there  was  a  floor  of  tiles,  there  were  potted  plants, 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  231 

cut  flowers,  a  pleasant  fire  on  the  hearth,  shaded 
lights  serenely  burning.  Eleanor's  fine  shoulders 
stood  out  against  the  cushions  clean  and  firm  of  out- 
line as  marble ;  the  rich  little  silver  service  winked  in 
front  of  her ;  the  dress  svrept  out  in  folds  whose  sump- 
tuous texture  he  recognised,  though  he  could  not  have 
named  it ;  she  was  a  regal  picture,  if,  at  the  moment,  ' 
a  somewhat  disquieting  one. 

«  Mj  —  good  —  Lord  I ''  he  uttered.  Eleanor's 
Uncle  IMarshall  was  familiar  enough  with  this  blazing 
mood,  but  it  was  something  new  to  old  Amzi.  After 
an  instant,  he  said  with  careful  mildness:  "Well, 
what  did  jou  do  with  your  money,  Eleanor?  You 
didn't  give  it  to  the  darky  with  the  cracked  heels?  " 

The  tragic  fires  died  down,  extinguished  by  her 
quick  smile ;  and,  a  sense  of  humour  being  of  the  very 
stuff  of  sanity,  Mr.  Loring  was  reassured,  even  before 
she  spoke. 

"  No.  That  wouldn't  have  done  him  any  good, 
you  know,"  said  Eleanor  practically.  "  No.  The 
cheque's  in  bank  to  my  account.  I  put  it  there  this 
morning,  the  way  you  told  me  to  do  always." 

"  I  thought  you  had  a  pretty  level  head!  "  said  Mr. 
Loring,  relieved ;  then  perplexity  overtook  him  again. 
"  Only,  if  your  head's  level  enough  for  that,  I  don't  see 
how  you  ever  worked  yourself  into  such  an  excitement 
over  this  man  to  begin  with.  Aren't  you  feeling 
well?  I  mean,  you  —  you  aren't  feeling  —  er ; —  ner- 
vous, or  anything?  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  all  right  —  I'm  scarcely  ever  sick,  you 
know,"  said  Eleanor,  with  half  a  laugh.  "  No."  She 
looked  down,  fingering  the  tray,  a  little  ashamed  of 
her  outbreak;  then  raised  her  eyes  to  his  gallantly. 
"  It's  just  that  it  seemed  to  me  so  dreadful  for  me  to 


232  THE  EUDDER 

liave  so  mucli,  and  that  poor  fellow  so  little.     I  —  I 
couldn't  stand  it.     Don't  you  seef 

This  she  said  with  sufficient  calmness,  though  ur- 
gently ;  old  Amzi,  considering  her  seriously  perceived 
what  seemed  to  him  a  fanatically  stubborn  conviction, 
coupled  imi)ossibly  with  essential  reasonableness.  It 
interested  him  to  the  point  of  argTiment  —  something 
which  he  had  never  before  thought  worth  w^hile  with 
a  woman. 

"  If  I  understand  you,  Eleanor,"  he  said,  "  you've 
got  an  idea  somehow  that  you  wrong  this  negro  man 
by  being  better  off  than  he  is.  How  do  you  make  that 
out?     What  makes  you  think  that?  " 

''  Why,  because  I  haven't  done  anything  to  deserve 
it!"  Eleanor  cried.  "It's  not  faii^l  It's  not  right! 
It's  — " 

Mr.  Loring  waved  a  tranquillising  hand.  "  I  get 
your  point,"  said  he.  "  It's  an  accident,  of  course, 
and  the  luck  of  it  happens  to  be  all  on  your  side. 
Well  now,  the  w^ay  I  look  at  it,  the  Lord  is  responsible 
for  that  kind  of  accident.  They  talk  about  all  men 
being  born  free  and  equal.  That's  a  fallacy  —  or,  at 
least,  the  equal  part  of  it  is.  He  starts  some  people 
out  white  and  some  coloured;  He  lets  some  be  born 
blind  and  some  idiots ;  He  fixes  some  so  they'll  always 
have  good  health  like  yourself,  as  you  were  saying  just 
now,  and  He  makes  some  that  never  draw  a  well 
breath ;  and  He  gives  some  people  the  gumption  to  get 
ahead  and  make  something  of  themselves,  while  He 
fits  others  out  to  be  failures  and  criminals  and  I  don't 
know  what  all.  You  may  think  it's  sacrilegious  to 
blame  it  on  the  Almighty,  but  what're  you  going  to  do 
about  it?  It's  not  your  fault  anyhow.  It's  no  more 
wrong  or  unfair  for  you  to  be  in  easy  circumstances 


THE  WAGON  AXD  THE  STAR  233 


while  some  people  aren't,  than  it  is  for  you  to  be  well 
while  lots  of  people  are  sick.'' 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  said  Eleanor  obstinately.  ^'  It 
doesn't  seem  right.  It  was  so  pitiful.  /  don't  do  any- 
tJiincjy  and  he  works  hard." 

"Don't  /  work  hard?"  said  Mr.  Loring.  "You 
know  it.  You've  seen  me.  I've  worked  hard  all  my 
life.     But  I  take  notice  nobody's  worrying  over  mc!  ^' 

"  Well,  but  you're  different  —  it's  different  some- 
how," said  Eleanor,  in  dire  confusion. 

"Different?  Different  how?''  demanded  Amzi 
One.  He  got  up  and  stood  in  front  of  the  mantel- 
piece, looming  over  Eleanor,  with  his  cigar  in  the 
angle  of  his  mouth,  with  his  big  square  jaw,  his  big 
square  shoulders,  his  complexion  ruddy  and  coarse 
but  clean  with  the  cleanliness  of  a  decent  life,  a  lit- 
tle arrogant,  but  self-respecting  and  self-confident 
from  the  soundest  of  reasons.  "  How  am  I  different? 
Because  I've  made  my  way  and  made  money?  While 
a  man's  poor  and  works  for  somebody  else  he's  to  be 
pitied  and  coddled  and  sympathised  with  and  made 
much  of,  hey?  And  the  minute  he  gets  to  be  well 
off  and  hires  another  man  to  work  for  him,  it's  all 
^  wrong '  and  ^  unfair '  and  ^  unjust ' —  is  that  it  ? 
The  man  that  has  to  work  for  me  is  the  noblest  crea- 
ture and  the  most  unfortunate  and  abused  creature 
on  earth,  and  v\'hen  I  give  him  a  job  and  pay  him  all 
he's  worth,  I'm  taking  advantage  of  his  necessities, 
and  I'm  —  what's  this  they  call  it?  Oh,  yes  I  —  I'm 
an  '  exploiter  of  labour ' !  If  I'm  a  rich  man  I  can't 
possiblv  be  an  honest  man.  Anvbodv  that  has  the 
money  to  pay  for  a  good  house  and  good  clothes  must 
be  skinning  some  poor  devil  of  a  coloured  man  who 
hasn't  any  shoes  I  " 


234  THE  EUDDER 

"  I  didn't  say  that !  That  wasn't  what  I  meant !  " 
Eleanor  broke  in.  "  I  meant  — "  she  halted  stammer- 
ing, in  a  chaos,  strong  as  ever  in  her  belief  —  the  be- 
lief surely  of  every  generous  soul  —  that  she  was  her 
brother's  keeper,  but  wholly  unable  to  express  it. 

Mr.  Loring  waited  relentlessly  for  her  to  finish. 
After  a  proper  interval,  he  said,  kindly  enough  —  in 
fact,  his  manner  throughout  had  been  most  patient 
and  temperate  — ^'  I  know  you  hadn't  anything  per- 
sonal in  mind,  Eleanor.  I  just  wanted  to  show  you 
where  that  line  of  thought  would  land  you.  It's  that 
kind  of  cheap  Socialist  rant  that  fellows  like  this 
Chauncey  Devitt  go  around  and  stir  up  trouble  with, 
calling  themselves  the  '  friends  of  Labour  '  and  all  the 
rest  of  it.  Of  course,  some  of  'em  are  cranks,  and 
they're  in  earnest.  I  don't  know  why  the  lunacy 
courts  don't  get  hold  of  that  kind  oftener.  But  with 
most  they  talk  that  kind  of  humbug  because  it's  popu- 
lar and  they  get  paid  for  doing  it ;  they  couldn't  make 
a  dollar  any  other  way  to  save  their  lives.  It's  easy 
for  a  man  to  believe  that  he's  being  ill-treated,  espe- 
cially when  he  sees  somebody  else  that's  got  more  than 
he  has;  there  isn't  anybody  hardly  that  knows  when 
he  has  enough.  That's  why  I  say  this  Anarchist  doc- 
trine is  so  popular.  But  you  can  see  how  false  it  is. 
Why,  take  my  own  case  when  I  was  a  young  fellow 
starting  out.  I  had  to  work  for  another  man;  did  I 
think  he  was  ^  exploiting  '  me?  Not  that  I  remember. 
I  intended  some  day  to  be  in  a  place  where  I  could 
hire  Jiim  if  I  wanted  to,  and  I  was  too  busy  getting 
there  to  bother  about  being  '  exploited.'  I  had  to 
think  twice  before  I  bought  an  extra  pair  of  shoes, 
too,  but  you'd  never  have  dreamed  of  pitying  me.  Or 
take  me  as  I  am  now.     I've  made  money,  but  it's  not 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  235 

a  drop  in  the  bucket  to  what  Carnegie  and  John  D. 
have.  Do  I  think  they  wrong  me  by  being  richer  men 
than  I  am?  Wh}',  I'd  be  crazy!  You  divide  all  the 
money  there  is  in  the  world  to-day,  share  and  share 
alike,  and  at  the  end  of  a  year  the  same  men  would  be 
rich,  and  the  same  others  would  be  wanting  three- 
dollar  shoes.  Now  you  don't  want  to  get  any  hyster- 
ical notions  about  the  poor  workingman ;  there  never 
was  a  time  or  a  country  where  the  poor  workingman 
had  so  much  done  for  him  as  he's  having  right  here 
and  now.  And  if  he  isn't  quite  in  your  class  as 
regards  luxuries,  why,  that's  no  reason  why  you 
shouldn't  have  a  little  fun  and  buy  what  you  want.'' 

Eleanor  did  not  attempt  an  answer.  She  rose,  too, 
and  stood  beside  him,  and,  happening  to  drop  her 
handkerchief,  Mr.  Loring  stooped  with  a  handiness 
surprising  in  a  man  of  his  age  and  build  and  restored 
it  to  her  neatly.  They  looked  at  each  other  smiling 
again,  something  about  the  small  civility  clearing  the 
air. 

^^  All  the  same,  you  haven't  proved  that  /  have  any 
business  to  be  better  off  than  the  coloured  man.  I'm 
not  worth  my  salt  in  any  way  that  I  know  of,"  said 
Eleanor. 

Amzi  One  did  not  dispute  the  fact ;  he  accounted  for 
it  as  being  in  the  normal  and  obvious  order  of  things. 
"  You're  a  woman,"  he  said.  "  And  anyhow,  you 
don't  want  to  get  morbid  about  it.  That  doesn't  do 
any  good.  You  can  think  of  something  to  do.  Fancy- 
work,  or  something,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  could  do  fancy-work,"  Eleanor  agreed.  On 
a  sudden  she  felt  an  immense  respect,  a  kind  of  regi'et- 
ful  liking,  a  kind  of  envy  for  old  Amzi,  who  was  so 
sure  of  his  own  light,  who  walked  so  straightly  by  it. 


236  THE  EUDDER 

"  Of  course  I  believe  in  giving  to  charities  and  all 
that,  you  know/'  Mr.  Loring  added  hastily,  on  some 
new  thought.  "  Everybody  ought  to  do  that.  That's 
only  right.'' 


CHAPTER  VI 

LEAVING  out  that  one  slight  ruffle,  life  with 
Eleanor  and  her  father-in-law  went  on  with 
unprecedented  smoothness.  The  big  house- 
hold moved  on  such  well-oiled  hinges  that  she  could 
have  no  domestic  cares,  people  thought,  though  she 
took  an  interest  in  various  departments,  had  a  lovely 
flower-garden  and  an  eminently  practical  one  for  vege- 
tables, experimented  picturesquely  with  a  dairy  and 
Jerseys,  with  a  poultry-house  and  eggs,  and  ordered 
and  set  up  the  animal-fountain  without  a  word  of 
objection  from  Loring  senior.  In  the  meantime  she 
was  as  busy  as  any  other  young  married  woman  of  her 
set  with  clothes  and  charities  and  clubs  and  her 
church,  busier  perhaps  —  restlessly  occupied  all  day 
long.  It  was  true  she  did  not  "  go  out  "  much  other- 
wise; for  most  of  the  year  her  husband  was  not  at 
home,  and  when  he  was  at  home,  alas,  there  was  that 
deplorable  ''  friction.''  When  they  did  ''  go  out  "  to- 
gether, it  was  a  painful  experience  for  Society,  even 
though  a  highly  interesting  one.  At  best,  it  was  said, 
one  always  felt  as  if  something  might  "  break  loose '' 
any  minute  I 

"  She  doesn't  ever  seem  to  want  to  do  what  he  wants 
her  to  do,"  her  friends  reported, ''  and  then,  instead  of 
one  or  other  of  them  giving  in,  or  at  least  keeping 
quiet,  and  fighting  it  out  as  soon  as  they're  by  them- 
selves—instead of  that,  why,  he  bawls  at  her  and 
orders  her  around,  and  then  she  says  something  that 

237 


238  THE  RUDDER 

doesn't  sound  like  anything,  but  it  always  makes  him 
jjcrfectly  furious!  l\e  seen  him  get  so  mad  he'd  take 
her  by  the  arm  and  fairly  shove  her  along  —  in  public 
places,  like  the  theatre  or  the  Countiy  Club,  you  know, 
or  anywhere  —  in  somebody's  house,  for  that  matter, 
he  doesn't  care.  Right  before  peoi)le !  I'd  die  if  any 
man  treated  me  that  way,  where  everybody  you  know 
can  see  and  hear  the  whole  thing.  It's  so  common! 
I  don't  see  how  she  stands  it ! " 

Mrs.  Juliet  Maranda  heard  the  stories  with  a  sad 
but  meaning  smile,  nodding  quietly.  "  She  tcoiild 
marry  him !  I  can't  imagine  what  it  w^as  about  him 
that  attracted  her ;  he  and  his  father  both  seem  to 
me  to  be  typical  nouveaux  riches  —  so  loud  and  vul- 
gar. I  believe  Eleanor  thought  him  very  handsome; 
you  know  in  the  nicest  families  there  will  be  a  strain 
of  the  most  unaccountable  low  taste  cropping  out  now 
and  then." 

"  That  is  very  true,  Juliet,"  said  Mr.  Marshall  Cook, 
to  whom  this  remark  was  addressed.  "  You  are  such 
a  keen  observer !  "  And  then,  with  a  face  of  the 
kindest  concern,  he  inquired :  "  By  the  w^ay  —  I 
haven't  been  back  here  for  so  long,  you  know  —  talk- 
ing about  people,  do  you  mind  if  I  ask  how  your 
brother  and  his  family  are  getting  along?  " 

"  Of  course  I  don't  mindy  Marshall,"  said  the  lady, 
drawing  herself  up  in  a  species  of  furious  calm.  "  I 
don't  know  why  you  should  think  I  would  mind  being 
asked  about  Homer.  They  are  doing  very  well,  thank 
you.  It  would  be  a  good  thing  if  Eleanor  gave  people 
as  little  occasion  for  scandalous  gossip." 

"  I  haven't  heard  any  scandalous  gossip  about 
Eleanor  yet,"  said  Cook,  innocently.  "  Unless  what 
you've  been  telling  me  is  scandal.     Is  it?  " 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  239 

"  Certainly  not  I  I  never  repeat  scandal,"  said  Mrs. 
Maranda  indignantly.  "You  knoiv  I  don't.  I  said 
scandal  because  —  that  is  —  well,  the  whole  thing  is 
very  disagi^eeable.  People  are  inclined  to  lay  the 
blame  on  him,  but  it  takes  two  to  make  a  quarrel;  I 
always  tell  everybody  that  in  justice  they  ought  to 
remember  that.  Maybe  after  this  they  will  really  be- 
lieve at  last  that  Eleanor  is  very,  very  difficult." 

There  was  truth  in  that,  too.  Cook  admitted  to  him- 
self, though  he  never  would  have  to  Mrs.  Juliet.  He 
went  out  to  dine  with  the  Lorings  —  a  ghastly  expe- 
rience. The  master  of  the  house  was  away  on  his 
annual  fishing  excursion,  but  young  Amzi's  team  hap- 
pened to  be  playing  in  town  that  week,  a  series  of 
four  games  with  the  ''  Black  Sox,''  so  "  Butch  "  Loring 
was  at  home,  and  welcomed  his  relative-in-law  with  a 
surly  amiability.  He  rather  liked  the  little  man,  who 
''^  hadn't  any  high-brow  airs  about  him."  The  other 
guests  were  a  well-known  sporting  gentleman,  to  wit : 
Andy  Farrell,  the  billiard  champion,  and  another 
w^hom  the  host  called  "  Do€."  Cook  did  not  catch  his 
surname,  but  discovered  in  the  course  of  talk  that  he 
had  acquired  his  title  legitimately  from  the  College 
of  Veterinary  Surgeons,  and  had  afterwards  become 
eminent  in  baseball  society  through  his  abilities  at 
manipulating  sprains,  sore  muscles,  etc.  His  T\ife 
was  along,  too,  a  large,  fleshy,  flashy  lady,  the  first 
sight  of  whom  moved  Cook,  who  nevertheless  was  the 
least  snobbish  of  men,  with  horrified  sympathy  for  his 
niece.  But  Mrs.  Doc  turned  out  to  be  almost  patheti- 
cally harmless,  bleached  hair  and  all.  She  sat  in 
silence,  completely  overawed  by  the  huge,  dim,  costly 
place,  by  the  frigidly  decorous  servants,  by  the  per- 
fect manners  of  her  hostess,  eating  timidly  not  nearly 


240  THE  EUDDER 

as  much  as  she  wanted,  saying  "  No,  sir,  I  wouldn't 
wish  any,"  when  the  butler  offered  a  dish,  watching 
Eleanor  to  see  which  fork  the  latter  used,  and  chang- 
ing from  one  to  another  of  her  own  in  agonised  un- 
certainty. Even  Cook,  with  all  his  tact  and  kindness, 
could  not  set  her  at  ease;  he  thought  that  Eleanor 
might  have,  but  Eleanor  did  not  try!  On  the  con- 
trary, there  she  sat,  cool,  impervious,  polite,  appar- 
ently unaware  of  young  Amzi's  scowl  at  the  other  end 
of  the  table.  She  made  even  her  uncle  uncomfortable. 
Wet  blankets  were  nothing  to  it ;  the  atmosphere  was 
fairly  leaden.  Amzi  Two  ate  sullenly ;  the  other  men 
were  alternately  awkwardly  loquacious,  or  when 
Eleanor  turned  her  gracious  eyes  on  them,  awkwardly 
dumb.  Cook  talked  on  desperately ;  in  the  extremity 
he  actually  talked  about  himself ! 

"  Oh,  did  you  write  that  piece  that  Charlie  Duke 
starred  in,  last  winter? ''  Farrell  said  in  surprise. 

"  Batter  Up?    Yes,  I  wrote  that." 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  a  writer." 

"  I  daresay  you  thought  I  was  a  monologue  artist, 
Mr.  Farrell,"  said  Cook,  grinning  uncontrollably. 
''  No  wonder !  " 

The  other  looked  uncertain  as  to  how  to  take  this, 
until  "  Doc  "  jogged  him  in  the  ribs,  when  they  both 
burst  into  abrupt  guffaws  which  ceased  with  equal 
abruptness  as  they  glanced  apprehensively  towards 
Eleanor. 

"  Thanks,  mister,  I  wouldn't  wish  any,"  said  the 
veterinarianess,  for  at  least  the  tenth  time. 

"  You'd  better  not  take  that  to  Mrs.  Loring  either, 
Hanson,"  shouted  young  Amzi  savagely  as  the  butler 
neared  Eleanor.     ''  She  don't  want  it.     It  ain't  good 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  241 

enoiigli  for  her.  Nothing  or  nobody  here  is  good 
enough  for  her !  " 

After  an  instant  of  uneasy  silence,  Farrell  said  in 
mock  reproach:  "Aw,  say,  Butch,  that's  an  awful 
slam  at  the  rest  of  us ! ''  And  he  and  Doc  laughed 
again,  encouraged  by  the  fact  that  Eleanor  herself 
joined  them  with  a  relish  which  occasioned  her  uncle 
considerable  disquiet. 

"What's  going  to  happen  7ioicf  he  thought,  eye- 
ing young  Amzi's  lowering  countenance. 

"  Here  you,  bring  another  bottle,  and  have  it  cold  I  " 
the  latter  ordered;  and  having  drunk,  he  addressed 
another  remark  to  the  table  in  sreneral.  "  D've  know 
that  joke  about  married  men  living  longer  than  single 
men?  The  answer  is  they  don't  live  any  longer,  it  only 
seems  longer! " 

Cook  ha-ha'ed;  everybody  made  anxious  haste  to 
ha-ha,  in  fact,  except  Mrs.  Doc  who  observed  Elea- 
nor's smile  in  naive  wonder. 

"  I've  found  out  that's  time,  too,"  said  their  host, 
filling  his  glass  again  —  whereat  the  other  two  men 
exchanged  a  significant  glance.  "  I've  found  out 
something  else,"  said  Amzi  Two,  glowering  impar- 
tially at  everybody.  "  You'd  think  it  would  cost  a 
married  man  just  twice  as  much  to  live,  wouldn't  you? 
Well,  it  don't.  It  costs  three  or  four  times.  That's 
another  joke  on  him." 

"  And  a  very  good  joke,  too,"  said  Eleanor,  sweetly. 
"  As  often  as  I  hear  it,  I  laugh  just  as  much  as  I  did 
the  first  time  years  ago."  And  laugh  she  did,  with 
an  appearance  of  the  keenest  enjoyment  I 

Cook  found  himself  tongue-tied  in  absolute  blank- 
ness  of  mind ;  Farrell  said  presently :     "  Say,  that's 


242  THE  KUDDER 

another  slam,  ain't  it?"  and  pumped  up  a  nervous 
laugh.  Young  Amzi  got  up  with  something  very  like 
an  oath  — 

And  just  then,  by  a  stroke  of  luck,  Mrs.  Doc  ^^  swal- 
lowed wrong,"  coughing  and  strangling  and  turning 
purple  in  the  face,  so  that,  in  the  noise  and  alarm 
and  excitement  incident  to  this  catastrophe,  the  exhi- 
bition of  '^  friction  "  preceding  it,  passed,  somehow, 
into  the  backgTound.  The  evening  wore  through,  no- 
body knew  how.  Cook  went  away  in  FarrelFs  auto- 
mobile with  the  rest  of  them  to  whom,  as  usual,  the 
little  man  knew  how  to  make  his  company  acceptable. 

"  Sharkey  would  make  Butch  cut  out  that  booze  if 
he  knew  about  it,"  the  billiard-player  said  confiden- 
tially, naming  the  manager  of  young  Amzfs  team. 

"  He  don't  take  enough  to  hurt  him,"  said  Doc. 

"  No.     Makes  him  kinda  ugly,  that's  all." 

"  Bet  you  he's  ugly  as  sin  anyhow  when  he  feels  like 
it ! "  said  the  lady  of  the  party.  "  You  got  a  tooth- 
pick? "  And,  being  supplied,  she  leaned  back  in  her 
corner,  exercising  the  instrument  with  a  sigh  of  com- 
fort. "They  hit  it  off  pretty  well,  I  don't  think! 
She's  pretty,  ain't  she?  But  didn't  she  set  there  like 
a  stone  image,  though?  Gee!  You  couldn't  j)ick 
your  teeth  in  fronta  her!  '^ 

Cook  saw  his  niece  once  more  during  his  visit  which, 
as  usual  with  him,  was  of  the  briefest ;  it  was  the  day 
after  that  calamitous  dinner,  when  he  went  out  to  say 
good-bye.  Eleanor  was  alone;  they  had  a  delightful 
hour  in  the  pretty  little  latticed  tea-house  in  the  gar- 
den, talking  about  the  Japanese  iris  just  then  in  opu- 
lent bloom,  about  Eleanor's  farming  experiences  as 
compared  with  Miss  Bessie  Grace's,  about  Marshall's 
last  play  and  the  things  the  critics  had  said  for  and 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  243 

against,  about  everything  under  the  sun,  in  short, 
'except  the  domestic  infelicities  of  young  Mr.  and  Mrs, 
Amzi  Loring.  The  author  scarcely  knew  whether  he 
had  hoped  for  or  dreaded  Eleanor's  confidences;  but 
hope  and  dread  were  alike  groundless  as  he  told  him- 
self afterwards  not  without  disdain  for  his  own  mis- 
judgments.  He  might  have  known  that  Nellie  would 
say  nothing  to  him.  However  disappointed  or  disil- 
lusioned or  tried  in  spirit  she  might  be,  it  was  not  in 
her  character  to  ease  herself  by  talk  —  unless  upon 
one  of  her  violent  impulses ;  even  then  she  might  rage, 
denounce,  excoriate,  but  she  would  never  feebly  com- 
plain. "  Nell  is  verily  the  captain  of  her  soul,'-  he 
mused.  '^  I  don't  know  what  her  rudder  is,  or  how 
she  directs  it.  It's  a  gallant  ship,  but  Lord  I  What 
a  cruise  I ''  The  trite  figure  made  him  smile ;  but  he 
thought  of  reefs  and  desert  beaches,  and  wondered 
again  what  the  end  would  be. 

"  She  didn't  even  mention  her  husband's  name  once. 
He  might  have  been  dead,  or  rather  he  might  never 
have  existed  I  It  doesn't  seem  possible  for  things  to 
go  on  much  longer  this  way,"  he  said  to  Fannie. 
"  They  can't  even  make  a  show  of  getting  along,  as 
most  people  would  in  common  decency  and  considera- 
tion for  outsiders.  They  don't  seem  able  to  let  each 
other  alone.  He  tries  to  cram  these  friends  of  his 
down  Eleanor's  throat  —  the  most  futile  piece  of 
bullying  that  ever  was  I  Why,  the  friends  themselves 
don't  like  it  —  they  were  bored  to  death.  And  Elea- 
nor retaliates  by  acting,  in  that  indescribable  way  of 
hers,  like  Satan  himself.  More  futility!  Do  you 
suppose  this  is  the  way  they  have  lived  ever  since  they 
were  married?  Five  years'?  Good  Heavens  I  It 
can't  keep  on  —  only  I   don't  see  what  Nellie's  to 


244  THE  RUDDER 

do  exactly  —  I  don't  see  what  escape  there  is  for 
either  of  them,  that  wouldn't  involve  a  lot  more  pub- 
licity —  you'd  think  they'd  have  had  enough  of  that 
at  the  time  of  the  marriage — " 

"  Oh,  Nellie  wouldn't  ever  get  a  divorce,  if  that's 
what  you're  thinking  of,  Uncle  Marshall,"  Fannie  in- 
terrupted, peering  at  him  through  the  large  round 
spectacles  she  had  recently  been  obliged  to  mount, 
w^ith  shrinking  horror  at  the  suggestion.  Cook  had 
found  Fannie  fatter  and  paler  than  ever  this  time, 
from  confinement  to  the  house  and  want  of  exercise, 
he  conjectured ;  what  with  that  and  her  imperfect  eye- 
sight and  a  tendency  to  stumble  in  her  walk  which  she 
had  developed  of  late,  she  seemed  to  him  unwarrant- 
ably old  and  wilted.  ''  It  would  be  so  common,^'  she 
said  anxiously.  "  You've  forgotten  how^  it  is  here, 
you've  lived  so  long  in  New  York.  But  nohodij  you 
knoiv  gets  divorced  here  —  only  once  in  a  long  while, 
and  then  they  keep  it  very  quiet.  And  we're  Episco- 
palians, too.  I'm  sure  they  wouldn't.  I  mean  /lim^ 
too.  I  think  he'd  hate  it  —  not  the  way  Eleanor 
would,  of  course,  but  just  as  much.  I'm  sure  they 
w^ouldn't." 

"  They  probably  couldn't  very  easily,  anyhow\ 
Nothing  to  get  divorced  about,  no  reasonable  cause, 
that  is  —  incompatibility,  of  course.  But  everybody 
talks  anyhow;  people  are  prone  to  conclude  that  in- 
compatibility is  a  mere  blind  —  that  there's  really 
something  dreadful  behind  it,"  said  Cook.  "  In  this 
case  it  would  happen  to  be  true.  Incompatibility  de- 
scribes the  trouble  to  a  nicety.  But  what  would  Nel- 
lie do,  supposing  they  did  separate?  Come  back  here 
to  live?  I'm  afraid  that  w^ouldn't  w^ork  very  well 
either." 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  245 

He  would  not  offend  his  niece's  unreasoning  sense 
of  duty  and  loyalty  by  picturing  with  unkind  detail 
Mrs.  Maranda's  attitude  in  the  event  of  so  complete 
and  inexpensive  a  vindication  as  Eleanor's  return; 
Fannie  was  well  able  to  imagine  it  for  herself,  Cook 
reflected,  hearing  already  in  fancy  his  sister-in-law's 
complacent  I-told-you-sos.  After  all,  few  people 
would  have  better  reason  to  be  complacent,  to  be  se- 
curely convinced  of  their  own  wisdom  and  saintliness. 
The  entire  community  would  behold  and  acclaim  it. 

"  No.  Nellie  and  Aunt  Juliet  never  seem  to  agree 
about  anything,  you  know,"  said  poor  Fannie. 
"  Even  now  when  she  comes  over  to  see  us,  they  some- 
times have  one  of  —  of  those  times  —  you  know?  I 
don't  know  what  makes  Nellie  do  it  —  only  Aunt  Ju- 
liet is  —  well,  she  does  —  of  course,  she  doesn't  mean 
to,  but—" 

"  I  know,"  said  Marshall.  Then,  after  a  minute, 
he  added  with  prodigious  speculative  gravity :  "  The 
classic  idea  of  hell  is  very  foolishly  exalted,  I  think. 
Everlasting  fires  and  torments  and  all  that  —  it's  al- 
together too  spacious,  too  grandiose.  Hell  is  prob- 
ably a  cheap,  every-day  place,  full  of  cheap,  every-day 
tribulations.  You  go  round  and  round,  beating  your- 
self against  the  shabby  walls,  and  there  is  no  outlet, 
no  release —  Don't  mind  me.  Fan;  this  is  a  mild 
form —  I'm  never  violent!  So  you  don't  believe 
that  Eleanor  would  consider  a  divorce.  Has  she  ever 
said  anything  to  you  about  it?  " 

"Why,  no  —  that  is,  not  exactly  —  she  never  ex- 
actly talked  about  separating  from  Amzi — "  Here 
Fannie  hesitated,  so  that  Mr.  Cook  had  space  to  ad- 
mire the  subtlety  of  the  feminine  powers  of  expres- 
sion,   and   interpretation  — "  Only  —  well,    once   she 


246  THE  RUDDER 

told  me  that  if  she  should  ever  be  left  alone  to  take 
care  of  herself,  she  knew  what  she  would  do.  She 
said  she'd  go  straight  into  Associated  Charities  work. 
Take  a  salary  for  it,  joii  know.  She's  done  work  for 
them  as  a  volunteer  already;  they're  glad  to  have 
ladies  —  people  that  have  been  taught  something 
about  tact  and  discretion,  so  as  not  to  offend  the  poor 
people,  or  antagonise  them.  They  say  it's  very  hard 
to  get  hold  of  just  the  right  person,  even  among 
ladies,"  said  Fannie,  biting  off  a  thread.  "  That 
seems  odd,  doesn't  it?  " 

"  Not  so  very  odd,"  said  Cook,  dryly.  "  It  takes  a 
good  deal  of  intelligence  to  be  kind.  Well,  Eleanor  is 
intelligent.  I  should  think  she  could  do  that  kind  of 
work  very  well." 

"Why,  Uncle  Marshall,  she  does  do  it  very  well! 
They  say  she's  wonderful  at  it.  She  gets  along  with 
them,  and  doesn't  try  to  manage  them  or  patronise 
them  or  pry  into  their  affairs,  and  they  all  like  her. 
She's  worked  mostly  for  the  Maternity  Society,  I  be- 
lieve, and  that's  often  rather  dreadful  —  going  to  all 
kinds  of  places  and  looking  after  those  poor  women. 
Sometimes  their  husbands  have  gone  off  and  deserted 
them,  and  often  there  hasn't  been  any  husband  at  all. 
Eleanor  has  to  find  out  and  report,  and  see  about 
nurses  and  —  and  baby-clothes,"  Fannie  explained, 
colouring  faintly  — "  and  do  it  all  in  a  nice  way  with- 
out hurting  their  feelings,  or  making  them  unhappy. 
You'd  be  surprised  to  see  how  good  she  is  at  it !  " 

"  No,  I'm  not  surprised,"  her  uncle  declared 
warmly.  "  It's  just  what  I  should  have  expected  of 
her.  Eleanor  would  succeed  in  anything  she  made  up 
her  mind  to  succeed  in,  for  that  matter,  but  if  she 
likes  this  and  is  interested,  you  can't  ask  anything  bet- 


THE  WAGON  .VXD  THE  STAR  247 

ter.  Only  as  a  means  of  support,  I  don't  know 
whether  it's  very  practical  — " 

^^  AYell,  she  didn't  say  she  was  going  to  do  it.  It 
was  only  in  case,  you  know?  " 

This  was  another  subject  which  Eleanor  had  not 
touched  upon  in  her  talk  vnXh.  him.  Cook  wondered 
why.  "  She  must  know  that  I  would  acquit  her  of 
ostentation  about  her  good  works.  She  may  simply 
hare  thought  that  I  wouldn't  be  interested  —  but  that 
doesn't  seem  likely  either.  I  give  it  up  I  It's  evident 
I  haven't  plumbed  Nellie's  depths  yet,  after  having 
known  her  from  a  baby,"  he  decided. 


CHAPTER  VII 

MR.  COOK'S  visit  and  the  sojurn  in  town  of 
Amzi  Two's  team  came  to  an  end  about  the 
same  time;  and  Eleanor  went  back  to  her 
daily  affairs  perhaps  as  much  relieved  by  one  depar- 
ture as  by  the  other.  She  had  taken  on  the  share  of 
another  Maternity  Society  worker  during  the  latter's 
hot-weather  absence,  and  it  kept  her  busy;  but  she 
wanted  to  be  busy.  In  having  her  mind  and  hands 
full  all  day,  and  going  to  bed  at  night  tired  out,  she 
satisfied  her  restlessness  —  or  punished  her  discon- 
tent with  things  as  they  w^ere,  as  she  herself  had  made 
them!  Besides  she  reallj^  liked  the  work,  and  was 
gratified  at  her  own  success  in  it.  '^  I  always  knew  I 
could  do  something  of  the  kind,"  she  said  to  Miss 
Penry,  the  district  visitor  from  the  Deaconess'  Home 
with  whom  she  often  fell  in  on  her  rounds.  "  I've  al- 
ways wanted  to  experiment  and  see  if  I  couldn't  make 
the  people  like  me ;  and  they  really  dOy  you  know,  most 
of  them.  Sometimes  the  women  are  quite  ferocious 
at  first,  and  want  to  shut  the  door  in  my  face,  but  I 
always  make  friends  with  them  in  the  end.  That's 
one  of  the  things  that  make  it  so  interesting;  you 
never  know  how  they  are  going  to  take  you,  or  what 
prejudice  you  may  have  to  overcome,  or  how  you're 
going  to  go  at  it.  It's  something  new  and  different 
all  the  time." 

Miss  Penry  surveyed  her  kindly,  thinking  that  no- 
bodv  could  very  well  help  liking  anything  so  youthful, 

248 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  249 

so  generously  enthusiastic,  and  above  all  so  pretty. 
Eleanor,  while  quite  aware  of  her  own  good  looks, 
would  have  been  astonished  to  know  of  their  conquer- 
ing quality  —  much  more  astonished  than  pleased ; 
the  idea  of  winning  by  mere  beaut}'  would  have  hu- 
miliated her.  It  made  her  allies  unconsciously.  "  I 
just  love  to  look  at  Mrs.  Loring,"  was  the  remark  that 
most  frequently  followed  her,  coupled  sometimes  with 
such  adjectives  as  ''  cute ''  and  '^  sweet,''  and  "  styl- 
ish "  or,  in  a  flight  of  language,  "  magnetic.''  Miss 
Penry,  who  had  a  plain,  good  face  and  went  about  in 
her  black  Deaconess's  uniform  and  bonnet  and  big, 
ugly  square  shoes,  a  real  angel  of  mercy,  charity  and 
kindness,  if  ever  one  walked  this  earth,  was  herself 
unenviously  fond  of  looking  at  Mrs.  Loring. 

"  You  want  to  take  care  and  not  wear  yourself  out," 
she  admonished  her  maternally.  ^^  Bye  and  bye,  it 
won't  seem  so  new  and  different.  I've  been  a  charity- 
worker  twenty  years  now,  and  it's  much  the  same 
thing  right  along,  seems  to  me.  Same  kind  of  igno- 
rance, same  kind  of  foolishness,  same  kind  of  wrong- 
doing over  and  over  again,  day  in  and  day  out.  There 
are  times  when  it  looks  as  if  all  3'our  work  went  for 
nothing,  and  it  gets  to  be  pretty  discouraging.  But 
work  does  count,  you  know,  it  does  count  after  all. 
The  thing  to  do  is  to  keep  at  it  anyhow."  She  had  not 
much  faith  that  Eleanor  would  keep  at  it  anyhow,  to 
tell  the  truth ;  Miss  Penry  had  seen  a  good  deal  in  her 
twenty  years. 

Eleanor  not  only  made  this  and  other  acquaint- 
ances ;  she  had  adventures  —  or  what  seemed  like  ad- 
ventures to  a  young  woman  of  her  conventional  up- 
bringing. There  was  the  family  on  the  shanty-boat 
at  the  foot  of  Lancaster  Street ;  there  was  the  mulatto 


250  THE  RUDDER 

chambermaid  in  tlie  Broadway  rooming-house;  there 
was  the  dreadful  place  at  the  corner  of  Sixth  and 
Silver  Streets  upstairs  over  the  saloon.  Even  Elea- 
nor, who  had  been  undaunted  by  vicious  dogs,  vitu- 
perative old  hags,  drunken  men,  and  nearly  every  va- 
riety of  disease  and  dirt,  discerned  something  in  the 
aspect  of  Sixth  and  Silver  Streets  that  gave  her  pause. 
The  entrance  was  between  two  buildings,  down  a  pass- 
age w^ith  a  trickle  of  foul  w^ater  through  the  middle 
of  it,  into  a  little  courtyard,  a  mere  air-shaft,  of  which 
she  could  just  catch  a  glimpse.  The  blind  brick  walls 
were  not  three  feet  apart;  midway  in  one  of  them 
there  was  a  sinister  door.  She  stood,  rallying  her 
forces  against  the  fancy  that  somebody  might  reach 
out  and  snatch  her  through  it,  and  the  other  fancy 
that  at  the  very  moment  she  was  being  spied  upon  ab- 
horrently from  secret  cracks  and  peepholes,  when 
there  came  along,  walking  with  prodigious  strides,  a 
tall,  lean,  harsh-faced  gentleman  whom  she  recog- 
nised and  spoke  to  with  a  warmth  the  remembrance 
of  which  afterwards  rather  amused  her.  She  really 
did  not  know^  him  very  well,  and  at  that  mainly  by 
report.  It  was  that  Mr.  Kendrick,  the  same  one  who 
had  been  engaged  to,  or  at  least  "  hanging  around '' 
Miss  Gilbert  for  so  long;  that  fact  alone  would  have 
placed  him  for  Eleanor  and  her  contemporaries,  for 
Miss  Gilbert  was  one  of  the  "  old  girls ''  whose  set 
came  out  years  before  Nellie  Maranda's.  ^^  Oh,  Mr. 
Kendrick ! ''  said  Eleanor  then,  with  the  cordiality  of 
her  relief. 

He  stopped,  staring.  "  Mrs.  Loring?  "  He  stared 
again,  with  an  effect  of  looking  from  her  to  their  sur- 
roundings incredulously. 

"  Charity,"  said  Eleanor  succinctly. 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  251 

"  Oh ! ''  Once  more  he  stared  about,  and  back  at 
her.     "  Got  lost  somehow?  '^ 

"  No,  indeed.  I  was  sent  here  by  the  Maternity  So- 
ciety. This  is  the  place,  isn't  it?  "  She  showed  him 
the  address  noted  on  a  slip  of  paper.  "  Right  in 
there?  Only  it  looks  —  do  you  suj^pose  it's  all 
right?'' 

Mr.  Kendrick  intimated  indirectly  that  it  was  not 
all  right,  first  by  guessing  that  there  had  been  some 
mistake  made,  and  then  by  wanting  to  know  if  the 
charitable  societies  didn't  have  any  men  they  could 
send  to  some  places,  his  expression  indicating  that  he 
had  no  very  high  opinion  of  the  intelligence  and  ca- 
pacity of  the  charitable  societies.  He  heard  Eleanor's 
explanation  patiently,  however,  and  then  suggested 
that  there  was  a  drug-store  about  two  blocks  away  on 
Poplar  Street  in  a  respectable  neighbourhood,  where 
she  could  wait,  if  she  liked,  while  he  went  in  here  and 
made  her  investigations  for  her.  ^^You  can't  stand 
around  on  the  sidewalks  here,  you  know."  he  said  au- 
thoritatively. 

"  That's  ever  so  kind  of  you,''  said  Eleanor  in  grate- 
ful surprise;  he  was  the  last  man  in  the  world  from 
w^hom  she  would  have  expected  so  much  good- will. 
"  I  hate  to  take  your  time,  though.  Can't  I  just  go 
in  with  you?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Kendrick,  uncompromisingly, 
marching  her  along.  "  I  guess  there's  been  some  mis- 
take made,  or  they  wouldn't  have  sent  you  here,"  he 
repeated,  as  if  in  apology.  "  It's  not  out  of  my  way. 
I'm  going  over  here  on  Amelia  Street,  to  see  a  tenant 
w^e  have,  anyhow." 

'^  Oh,  Amelia  Street?  There's  a  place  there  I've  got 
to  2:0  to,  too.     Is  that  all  ri^ht?  '' 


252  THE  KUDDER 

"  Oil,  yes.  Amelia  —  Poplar  —  Clinton  —  every- 
thing north  of  Silver  is  all  right.  Poor  people,  but 
decent,  all  of  them  —  the  kind  that  work,  you  know,'' 
said  Mr.  Kendrick,  as  if  that  were  amply  descriptive. 
"  It's  perfectly  safe." 

Eleanor  tried  to  recall  what  she  had  heard  about 
the  geography  of  the  "  red-light  district/'  but  unsuc- 
cessfully. She  might  have  been  in  the  very  heart  of 
it! 

"  I  suppose  there  was  some  mistake,"  she  said. 
^^  The  ladies  on  the  Board  give  us  these  assignments, 
just  as  the  applications  for  help  hapi)en  to  come  in. 
I  don't  think  they  know  anything  about  the  places." 

"  No,  seems  not,"  Mr.  Kendrick  agreed  dryly. 
"  Well,  /  know.  Any  man  that's  been  in  the  real-es- 
tate business  in  this  town  as  long  as  I  have —  !  " 

Eleanor  was  moved  with  sudden  curiosity.  Why 
not  ask  him  a  question  or  two,  even  if  the  subject  were, 
generally  speaking,  taboo?  It  would  be  for  her  own 
future  guidance,  and  when  all  was  said,  she  was  a 
married  woman,  and  he  a  middle-aged  man  of  iron 
respectability,  as  everybody  knew.  ''  Mr.  Kendrick," 
she  said,  "  who  owns  the  disreputable  houses?  " 

He  took  it  in  the  most  matter-of-fact  manner  im- 
aginable. "Why,  disreputable  people,  mostly.  I 
couldn't  tell  about  all  of  'em,  off-hand,  of  course.  But 
if  you  mean  the  one  you  were  at  just  now,  why,  I 
happen  to  know  that  that's  owned  by  a  man  named 
Dalton,  one  of  the  corrupt  political  gang  here. 
You've  probably  never  heard  of  him,  but  — " 

"Oh,  yes,  I  remember.     Jack  Dalton?" 

"  Yes.  I  believe  he  poses  as  out  of  politics  now, 
but  it  doesn't  make  any  difference  what  he  pretends 
he  is  or  isn't,  the  fellow's  a  notorious  scoundrel.     He 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  253 

has  a  good  deal  of  that  sort  of  property  scattered 
around  all  over  town.  And  he's  only  one  out  of  a  lot, 
you  know.  I  don't  suppose  we're  worse  than  any 
other  city  of  our  size,  but  weVe  got  our  share  of  Dal- 
tons  —  plenty  of  'em !  '^ 

^^  Are  there?  And  that's  one  of  the  things  they  do, 
is  it?''  said  Eleanor,  feeling  herself  on  the  way  to  a 
greater  enlightenment  than  Mr.  Kendrick  knew.  "  I 
don't  see  why  the  respectable  property-holders  —  but 
then  I  heard  —  who  owns  the  rest  of  the  places,  be- 
sides those  men?  You  don't  mind  telling?  I  mean, 
is  it  a  question  I  ought  not  to  ask  of  a  man  in  your 
business?  " 

He  looked  momentarily  dumbfounded,  so  that  Elea- 
nor wondered  if  he  thought  it  a  question  that  ought 
not  to  be  asked  of  any  man  in  any  business.  "  Mind 
telling?  "  he  echoed.  "  Why,  no  I  It's  all  right  if 
you  want  to  know\  You  have  to  go  around  these 
slums  more  or  less,  I  suppose.  Why,  it's  just  as  I  was 
saying  to  you  just  now;  they  are  other  fellows  of 
Dalton's  stripe  —  gangsters  —  saloon-men  —  profes- 
sional gamblers  —  any  rascal  that's  out  for  the  easy 
money.  Often,  too.  a  woman  that's  running  a  house 
will  own  it.  I  guess  it  all  sounds  pretty  bad  to  you, 
Mrs.  Loring,"  Mr.  Kendrick  ended  with  a  kind  of  re- 
gretful tolerance.  "  But  you  probably  realise  if 
you've  been  at  this  slum-work  any  time  at  all  that 
these  things  have  to  be  —  or  they  are^  anyhow,  in 
spite  of  law  and  morality." 

^'  The  reason  I  asked  you,  and  the  reason  I  thought 
maybe  you  —  you  wouldn't  want  to  tell  me  on  ac- 
count of  your  business  associations,  or  something  — '^ 
Eleanor  said,  embarrassed  but  straightforward  ac- 
cording to  her  habit,  "  was  that  I  heard  that  all  that 


254  THE  KUDDER 

kind  of  property  in  town  was  owned  by  three  or  four 
of  our  most  wealthy  and  prominent  people  —  socially 
prominent  and  supposed  to  be  irreproachable,  you 
know.  That  seemed  to  me  very  dreadful,  Mr.  Ken- 
drick ;  it  was  certain  to  be  people  I  knew,  maybe  some- 
body on  this  very  Charitable  Board.  To  think  that 
their  money  came  from  such  a  source !  '^ 

Mr.  Kendrick  let  pass  the  fact  that  she  had  thought 
he  himself  might  be  interested  to  safeguard  the  repu- 
tations of  these  devotees  of  Mammon.  "  Whoever 
said  that  didn't  mention  any  names,  I  expect,"  he  said 
wdth  deliberation.     ^^  Probably  couldn't." 

"  It  was  our  minister,"  said  Eleanor  quickly,  feel- 
ing somehow  that  that  reverend  gentleman's  own  rep- 
utation was  endangered.  "  He  said  it  last  Sunday 
in  a  sermon  on  Dives  and  Lazarus.  Mr.  Seymour  — 
don't  you  know  him?  " 

''  Yes.  I  go  to  All  Saints  myself,  when  I  go  any- 
where. Mr.  Seymour's  a  good  man  and  means  well, 
but  I  think  he's  mistaken  about  that  statement,"  said 
Mr.  Kendrick,  dispassionately.  "  If  you  stop  to  con- 
sider, you'll  see  why  I  question  it.  This  is  a  city  of 
more  than  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  people, 
among  whom  there  are  a  great  many  rich  men.  To 
find  out  which  ones  owned  real  estate  here,  and  where 
and  what  the  pieces  were,  and  under  w^hat  conditions 
and  to  whom  they  were  leased  or  rented  or  made  to 
render  income  —  I  say  to  find  out  all  that  about  every 
rich  man  in  town  would  take  an  expert's  whole  time 
for  about  a  year,  between  the  city  and  county  records, 
and  the  tax-duplicate,  and  the  land-and-title  guaranty 
companies,  and  the  real-estate  offices,  and  the  prop- 
erty itself.  I  never  saw  Mr.  Seymour  in  any  of  those 
places,  and  I'm  there  every  day  myself.     That's  why 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  255 

I  think  I'm  qualified  to  judge.  I  don't  think  it  would 
be  humanly  j)ossible  for  Mr.  Seymour  to  have  con- 
ducted an  investigation  like  that  and  attended  to  his 
church  and  parish  duties  faithfully  besides  —  as  he 
always  has  done,  in  my  observation.  It  looks  to  me 
as  if  he  made  that  statement,  repeating  something  he 
had  heard  but  hadn't  taken  the  trouble  to  verify." 

It  looked  that  way  to  Eleanor,  too!  Vexation  in- 
vaded her  to  review  the  disquiet  into  which  she  had 
been  thrown  by  an  utterance  which,  because  it  was 
delivered  with  weight  from  the  pulpit,  she  had  not 
recognised  for  mere  gossip.  The  very  simplicity  of 
Mr.  Kendrick's  rebuttal  piqued  her;  she  might  have 
had  sense  enough  to  think  out  anything  so  obvious 
herself!  But  there  she  had  sat,  with  all  the  rest  of 
the  congregation,  and  swallowed  the  sensational  in- 
dictment down  whole,  not  a  soul,  as  far  as  she  knew, 
"  stopping  to  consider."  Instead,  as  they  walked 
away,  she  remembered  overhearing :  "  Well,  some  of 
these  godly  old  skinflints  got  theirs  to-day !  "  and  "  I 
tell  you,  I  respect  Mr.  Seymour  a  good  deal  more  for 
having  the  nerve  to  get  up  and  tell  the  truth  like  that, 
at  the  risk  of  alienating  his  best-paying  parish- 
ioners !  "  and  —  among  the  women,  alas !  —  "  Who 
do  you  suppose  he  meant?  The  So-and-Sos?  They 
say — "  All  of  them,  herself  and  Mr.  Seymour  in- 
cluded, seemed  to  her  now  childishly  credulous,  child- 
ishly irresponsible.  Mr.  Kendrick  unwittingly  sup- 
ported the  idea  by  going  on  explaining,  patiently, 
laboriously,  in  words  of  one  syllable,  as  it  were.  One 
glance  into  his  face  showed  Eleanor  that  he  doubted 
if  it  might  not  be  a  waste  of  time,  but  thought  it  his 
duty  to  try  to  set  her  right,  if  possible. 

"In  my  business   experience,"  said   he,   "I   have 


256  THE  KUDDER 

never  run  across  any  reputable  man  who  made  a  prac- 
tice of  dealing  in  that  kind  of  property.  To  begin 
with,  it's  not  a  good  business  proposition ;  it's  too  un- 
certain and  too  much  trouble.  Those  people  are  all 
the  time  getting  into  hot  water  with  the  police,  and 
being  raided  and  hauled  up  in  court,  and  sometimes 
there's  a  murder,  or  some  other  pretty  bad  scrape; 
nobody  wants  all  that  scandal  and  publicity.  The 
owner  would  have  to  attend  to  the  property  and  col- 
lect the  rents  himself,  because  — ''  said  Mr.  Kendrick, 
with  a  painstaking  plainness  that  rebuked  Eleanor 
more  than  the  sharpest  words  — "  because  he  couldn't 
get  any  honest,  respectable  agent  to  do  that  sort  of 
work,  and  he  couldn't  trust  anybody  else.  Well- 
known  church  members  —  I  suppose  Mr.  Seymour  in- 
timated that  that  was  the  kind  of  man  —  wouldn't 
care  to  be  seen  around  such  neighbourhoods,  and  most 
wealthy  men  are  too  busy  with  big  things  anyhow,  to 
take  the  time.  You  see  how  impracticable  the  whole 
thing  would  be.  Of  course  I'm  only  speaking  from 
my  own  observation ;  but  I  think  if  the  next  time  you 
hear  anybody  say  anything  like  that,  you  will  make  an 
inquiry,  you  will  find  that  things  are  about  as  I  have 
stated." 

"  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Kendrick,"  said 
Eleanor  humbly.  The  speech  sounded  so  inadequate 
to  her  that  the  next  moment  she  burst  out  in  her 
heady  fashion :  "  I  think  we're  all  a  set  of  fools  — 
the  rector  and  all  of  us !  " 

"  Oh,  no,  I  wouldn't  say  that'^  said  Mr.  Kendrick. 

He  deposited  her  at  the  drug-store,  much  as  if  she 
had  been  a  rather  valuable  package,  went  off  and  re- 
turned in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  Tvdth  a 
complete  report  of  conditions  at  Sixth  and  Silver,  to 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  257 

which  he  added  some  recommendations  of  his  own^ 
uncommonly  pointed,  practical  and  withal  kindly. 
"  He's  realiy  interesting  in  his  way/'  Eleanor  after- 
wards told  her  friends,  who  were  unanimously  of  the 
contrary  opinion.  ''  He  probably  can't  talk  about 
anything  but  his  business,  of  course.  Still  I  can  see 
how  Miss  Lorrie  Gilbert  might  like  him."  ' 

Backed  by  his  assurance  that  the  locality  was  per- 
fectly safe,  she  hunted  up  the  other  address  she  had 
been  given :  "  Mrs.  Michele  Giannetti,  21  Amelia 
Street,"  and  found  it  to  be  a  fruit  store,  with  a  stalk 
of  bananas  swinging  beneath  the  awning,  and  baskets 
of  peaches  and  tomatoes  displayed  on  the  pavement 
with  a  fine  disregard  of  the  Health  Officer's  regula- 
tions. Inside,  in  a  glass  counter,  there  were  some 
unholy  looking  cakes  and  candies;  fly-paper  was 
spread  at  random  amongst  the  stock.  Eleanor  made 
her  way  in,  and  a  swarthy  Italian  woman  slouched 
forward,  with  a  swarthy  little  boy  barely  clad  in  an 
undershirt  and  drawers  trailing  after  her.  From  the 
litter  of  feathers  and  smell  of  scalding  in  the  rear  of 
the  place,  Eleanor  gathered  that  they  had  been  pluck- 
ing a  chicken;  in  fact,  a  cat  was  busy  in  one  corner 
with  a  bit  of  the  offal. 

"Mrs.  Giannetti?" 

"Yes,  ma'am.     You  want-a  buy,  eh?" 

"  No.     I  came  to  see  about  the  sickness  in  the  house 
you  know?  " 

"  Seekness?  "  said  Mrs.  Giannetti.  She  shook  her 
head.     "  Me,  I  don'  know  heem.     Tony  I  " 

The  boy  briskly  addressed  Eleanor.  "  Me  mudder 
she  can't  talk  United  States  so  good.  She  ain't  ever 
learned  anything  but  dago,"  said  he.  "  Who're  youse 
lookin'  for?  " 


258  THE  RUDDER 

"  They  said  Mrs.  Giannetti.  It's  —  it's  about  the 
baby  —  your  baby/'  said  Eleanor,  moving  nearer  to 
the  woman,  and  lowering  her  voice,  mindful  of  the 
child's  presence. 

Mrs.  Giannetti,  however,  exclaimed  in  a  loud  tone 
of  astonishment :  "  Babee?  Me?  Baheef ''  and  fol- 
lowed this  up  with  a  shout  of  laughter.  "  Wat  you 
t'ink  'bout  dat,  eh?  Me,  I  don'  get  any  more  babee, 
lady!  I  been  forty-nine  year;  I  get  married  t'irty- 
tree  year,  fourt'  of  nex'  mont',"  she  explained  circum- 
stantially, as  soon  as  she  could  speak  for  mirth.  "  I 
should  w^orry  for  get  babee,  eh?" 

"  Aw,  shut  up,  you  big  simp ! "  said  Tony  impa- 
tiently. "Betcha  she  means  Lina.  W'y,  she  ain't 
sick  yet,  lady,"  he  said  to  Eleanor.  "If  youse  th' 
nurse,  like  th'  other  lady  said  she  was  goin'  t'  send, 
w^'y,  youse  way  off !     'Tain't  time  yet.'^ 

"  She  come  in  five  week  just,"  said  Mrs.  Giannetti, 
who  appeared  to  have  a  turn  for  statistics.  "You 
got-a  close  for  hamhino  —  leetl'  close,  eh?" 

"  We're  going  to  send  some.  I  came  to  see  how  she 
was,  and  to  tell  her  about  them  —  how  to  take  care  of 
them,  you  know,"  said  Eleanor.  "  I'm  sure  she's  the 
one.     if  you'll  tell  me  where  to  find  her — ?" 

"Sure!"  said  Tony  wdllingly.  "It's  upstairs. 
I'll  show  youse."  And,  piloting  her  towards  the  back, 
he  further  volunteered :  "  she's  me  sister,  but  her  name 
ain't  Giannetti,  her  name's  Morehead.  That's  w-at 
put  youse  in  wrong.  I  guess  th'  other  lady  didn't 
know." 

"Morehead?"  said  Eleanor,  startled. 

"  Yeah.  Lina's  married  all  right,  all  right.  She's 
had  two  kids  a'ready,  only  they  both  died.  But  that's 
going  some." 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  259 

They  paused,  panting,  on  tlie  top  step. 

"  How  old  are  you,  Tony?  "  Eleanor  asked  him. 

"  'Leven,"  said  Tony,  rattling  the  door-knob. 

Mrs.  Lina  Giannetti  Morehead,  with  the  peevish, 
discoloured  face  and  uncrainlv  ficrure  of  a  woman  in 
her  state  of  body,  came  heavily  and  opened  to  them. 
"Well?"  she  snapped.  "What  you  coming  home 
this  time  of  day  for?     Oh!'' 

"GVanI  'fain't  Tom,  it's  th'  lady  from  th' 
Society,"  said  her  brother,  and  introduced  the  other  to 
Eleanor,  jerking  his  head.  "  That's  her  I "  He  re- 
treated down  the  stairs,  yodeling.  Mrs.  Morehead  re- 
mained inhospitably  in  her  doorway,  looking  Eleanor 
up  and  down. 

"Well?"  she  demanded  again,  querulously. 

"  May  I  come  in  ?  " 

Mrs.  Morehead  grudgingly  opened  the  door  a  little 
wider;  in  the  very  act,  her  opposition  suddenly  gave 
way  to  listless  indifference.  "  It  don't  look  fixed  up, 
but  I  can't  help  it.  I  can't  do  anything,  seems  like. 
I'm  so  tired  all  the  time,"  she  complained.  Indeed, 
the  briefest  glance  around  the  two  rooms,  one  opening 
into  the  other,  revealed  that  they  could  not  have  been 
fixed  up  for  a  long  while ;  dust  of  an  imposing  antiq- 
uity, to  Eleanor's  alert  houseT\dfe's  eye,  had  collected 
in  corners,  on  the  window-panes,  in  the  meshes  of  the 
lace  curtains  draping  them ;  it  furred  all  the  strands 
of  the  red  and  green  and  tinsel  rope  portiere.  The 
bed  stood  unmade  with  repellent  blankets ;  unwashed 
dishes,  pots,  plates,  saucepans  crowded  the  top  of  the 
stove,  the  sink,  the  table;  and  underneath  the  latter 
lay  a  hambone  enveloped  in  a  cottony  fuzz  of  green 
and  white  mould.  On  the  bureau  at  Eleanor's  elbow, 
her  casual  survey  itemised  a  soiled  blue  satin  pin- 


260  THE  RUDDER 

cushion,  with  odds  and  ends  of  mock  jewellery  stuck 
into  it;  a  jar  full  of  a  pink  compound  that  looked  like 
rouge ;  a  bottle  of  brilliantine ;  two  small  tin  canisters 
of  talcum  powder;  a  white  canvas  shoe;  a  comb  full 
of  hair ;  a  half -sandwich  of  rye  bread  and  Schweitzer 
cheese ;  sundry  rags ;  a  copy  of  an  obscene  little  weekly 
paper  entitled  The  Midnight  Bell  of  which  she  had 
heard,  with  "  spicy  details  of  wife's  infidelities  en- 
rage HUSBAND  "  in  head-line  type  on  the  outside  page ; 
and  finally,  very  active  and  inquiring  amongst  the 
litter,  a  large  black  cockroach.  Mrs.  Morehead  saw 
this  other  visitor,  too,  and  made  a  perfunctory  dab  at 
it,  rolling  into  a  sort  of  bat,  one  section  of  an  ancient 
pair  of  corsets  that  was  lying  conveniently  at  hand. 
'^  Them  things  get  all  over  everything,"  she  remarked, 
after  missing  her  aim,  sinking  back  exhaustedly.  "  I 
haven't  got  any  time  to  keep  after  'em.  I  just  can't 
get  through  anything,  long  as  I'm  this  way." 

The  words,  the  whole  hopeless  x)icture  went  to  Nel- 
lie's heart.  Poor,  unkempt,  untaught,  unhelped  and 
helpless  creature,  what  could  be  expected  of  her? 
Eleanor  thought  of  her  own  friends  whom  she  had 
seen  in  the  same  condition,  daintily  nested,  petted, 
cheered  and  waited  on,  with  her  familiar  shamed  sense 
of  injustice  and  rebellion.  "  Of  course  you  can't  do 
anything,"  she  said  in  ardent  sympathy;  "it's  very 
hard  all  this  part  of  it,  waiting  so  long,  and  feeling 
so  wretched.  But  in  a  little  while  now  it  will  all  be 
over,  and  it  will  be  so  nice  when  you  have  your  baby. 
Do  you  want  a  boy  or  a  girl?  " 

"  My  God,  I  don't  care  I  One's  as  bad  as  the  other, 
I  guess,"  said  Mrs.  Morehead  without  interest,  but 
eyeing  her  guest's  hat  speculatively.  "  I  just  wish  it 
was  over  and  done  with,  that's  all,  I  just  wish  I  could 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  261 

get  out  on  tlie  street  again  and  see  somebody  and  get 
some  clothes  I ''  she  burst  out  fretfully.  ^'  I'm  dog- 
tired  of  this." 

"  I'll  bring  you  some  clothes  —  that's  what  I  came 
to  see  you  about/'  Eleanor  eagerly  began  to  tell  her; 
^'  there's  a  bundle  of  all  the  things  the  baby  has  to 
have  right  at  the  first — " 

"The  'bahij?  Bahj/  clothes?  Oh!'^  ejaculated  its 
prospective  mother  with  an  utter  lack  of  enthusiasm. 

"  We  —  we  thought  that  would  help  you  a  little/' 
said  Eleanor  uncertainly ;  she  was  a  good  deal  taken 
aback.  "  We  thought  maybe  you  might  not  have  all 
you  needed — " 

"  Yeah.     All  right.     You  can  leave  'em." 

"  Well,  they've  all  been  nicely  washed  and  ironed 
and  then  sterilised,  you  know,  so  that  they  will  be  ab- 
solutely clean  to  put  on  the  new  little  one,"  said  Elea- 
nor, coming  to  what  she  always  felt  to  be  the  most 
delicate  point  in  these  negotiations.  "And  so  the 
bundle  is  not  to  be  opened  until  the  very  last  minute, 
for  fear  of  —  for  fear  of  accidents.  Something  might 
happen  to  get  into  it,  you  know,  even  with  all  your 
care." 

"  My  God,  I  ain't  got  any  time  to  be  opening  baby- 
bundles,  an^'how.  You  can  just  leave  'em,"  said  the 
other  shortly. 

"  We  thought  that  you  might  not  have  been  able  to 
!  get  quite  enough,"  Eleanor  said,  in  fear  that  she  had 
been  guilty  of  tactlessness.  "  One  has  to  make  so 
many  things  for  a  baby  — " 

"  Oh,  I  ain't  made  none.  I  ain't  had  any  time.  It's 
all  I  can  do  to  get  around,"  said  Mrs.  Morehead,  with 
a  return  of  languor. 

Eleanor  felt  her  sympathy  that  had  been  so  sincere 


262  THE  EUDDER 

and  spontaneous  oozing  away,  like  Bob  Acres'  cour- 
age. She  strove  to  recover  it  self -reproachfully ;  and 
was  casting  about  for  a  cheering  or  consoling  speech, 
when  somebody  came  noisily  up  the  stairs,  and  at  the 
top,  without  any  formalities,  thrust  open  the  door, 
with  a  loud  challenge :     "  'Lo,  Lina ! '' 

"  'Lo ! ''  said  the  mistress  of  the  establishment,  with- 
out stirring. 

The  newcomer  stepped  inside.  It  was  a  plump, 
florid  young  woman,  in  a  skin-tight  soiled  white  skirt, 
a  skin-tight  openwork  blouse,  and  a  narrow  white 
kid  belt  clamped  like  a  vise  around  the  middle  of  her, 
giving,  between  the  inordinate  bulge  of  her  bust  and 
hips,  a  final  effect  of  excruciating  tightness.  She 
also  wore  a  necklace  and  pendant  set  with  turquoise 
and  diamonds,  and  a  large  hat  of  startling  eccentrici- 
ties of  brim,  skewered  to  her  head  by  pins  set  with 
amethysts  and  pearls ;  and  she  swung  from  one  hand 
a  mesh-bag  of  gold  set  with  emeralds  and  rubies. 
''  Gee !  You  sure  are  getting  one  fine  shape ! "  she 
commented  freely,  surveying  her  hostess.  And  then 
in  a  scream  of  surprise :  "  Mrs.  Loring !  Well,  what 
do  you  know  about  that?  " 

"  Mis'  Loring'?  '^  echoed  the  other  woman,  roused  to 
some  show  of  curiosity.  "  For  God's  sake,  you  don't 
say !  "     They  both  stared. 

"I  —  I'm  sure  I  know  you,"  Eleanor  stammered  to 
the  fat  young  woman,  much  embarrassed.  "  Only  I'm 
so  stupid  about  names  —  I  can't  remember  — " 

"  Don't  mention  it ! "  said  the  other,  frigidly  for- 
mal. But  the  next  instant  she  burst  into  a  most  good- 
natured  laugh.  '^  Say,  that  sounded  awfully  funny, 
didn't  it,  me  telling  you  not  to  mention  it,  that  way? 
I  didn't  mean  for  you  not  to  mention  my  name,  you 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  263 

know  —  I  wasn't  thinking  how  it  would  sound.  I 
don't  believe  jou  ever  heard  my  name  anyhow.  I 
seen  you  lots  of  times  down  to  Fritseh's,  Mrs.  Loring. 
I'm  the  one  they  call  Miss  Lutie,  don't  you  know? 
Miss  Lutie.'' 

'^  Oh!     Oh,  yes,  of  course!     I  knew  your  face — " 

"  That's  just  my  given  name,  you  know.  My  last 
name's  Morehead,"  said  Lutie,  suddenly  embarrassed 
in  her  turn ;  her  face  took  on  an  even  deeper  red  as  she 
glanced  around  the  room  and  back  to  Eleanor. 
"  Morehead.     You  know,  I  guess." 

"Oh,  you  mean  Mrs.  Maranda's — ?  Yes?  No,  I 
didn't  know  I  Why,  isn't  that  nice?  Isn't  it  inter- 
esting for  us  to  meet  this  way?"  said  Eleanor,  in  a 
voice  of  convincing  friendliness.  It  was  real ;  her  hu- 
mane vision  gave  her  some  glimpse  of  what  might  be 
going  through  poor  Lutie's  mind,  and  to  set  her  at  her 
ease,  to  be  kind,  to  help  without  offence,  Eleanor 
called  upon  every  resource  of  a  gentlewoman.  She 
spoke  to  the  other.  "  Why,  then,  you  must  be  her 
brother's  wife?  I  noticed  the  name,  but  I  didn't 
think  about  it's  being  the  same  family.  There  might 
be  ever  so  many  Moreheads,  not  related  at  all,  you 
know." 

"  Uh-huh,"  said  Tom's  wife,  sullenly.  The  revela- 
tion seemed  to  have  awakened  a  kind  of  dull  hostility 
within  her.  Eleanor  recollected  that  Tom  Morehead 
had  once  been  employed  at  Mr.  Loring's  Elmwood  fac- 
tory —  might  be  still,  for  all  she  knew.  There  was  a 
pause. 

"  Say,  Lina,  looks  like  you  done  a  lot  of  houseclean- 
ing  round  here  lately  —  nit  I  "  Lutie  said  at  length 
with  forced  jocularity. 

"  My  God,  Lute  Morehead,  if  you  felt  like  I  do  — 


264  THE  RUDDER 

Say,  it's  a  pity  about  you  anyhow,  ain't  it?  Your 
being  so  smart,  ain't  it?  ''  retorted  the  other  savagely. 
"  If  you  ever  get  a  chance  to  get  married,  you'd  bet- 
ter do  better  n  what  I  did,  or  you'll  find  out  what  it's 
like.  Working  and  slaving  yourself  to  death  on  fif- 
teen dollars  a  week,  and  being  sick  all  the  time  like 
this,"  she  wound  up  with  a  vengeful  eye  on  Eleanor. 

Lutie  opened  her  mouth  for  what  would  probably 
have  been  a  stinging  repartee,  but  controlled  herself, 
likewise  mindful  of  the  outsider;  and  Eleanor  inter- 
vened in  something  of  a  panic.  "  Don't  worry  about 
your  house  —  you  have  enough  to  worry  you  without 
that/'  she  said,  wondering  whether  she  was  striking 
the  right  note,  or  making  matters  worse.  "  Every- 
thing's going  to  come  around  all  right,  and  if  you  let 
yourself  worry,  it  might  be  bad  for  the  baby,  you 
know.  The  clothes  will  come  in  a  few  days,  and  the 
Society  takes  charge  of  the  nurse  and  the  doctor,  and 
the  things  you  may  need  from  the  drug-store.  So  you 
must  let  all  that  go  off  your  mind  completely."  Elea- 
nor rose.  "  And  —  and  I  hope  you  will  let  me  come 
and  see  you  again?  "  she  said  earnestly. 

Mrs.  Morehead  did  not  answer.  After  an  instant 
Lutie  got  up  too,  and  said  with  a  careful  affectation 
of  what  she  would  doubtless  have  called  the  "  society 
manner  "  :  "  Oh,  that's  so  sweet  of  you,  Mrs.  Loring. 
Of  course,  we'd  love  to  have  you.  Must  you  go?  Let 
me  walk  along  with  you?  " 

"  Well,  I  like  your  nerve !  You  just  don't  go  one 
step  out  of  here  till  you  hand  over  my  lahvaleer,  Miss 
Lutie ! "  her  sister-in-law  interrupted,  lumbering  up 
out  of  her  chair  with  unexpected  activity.  "  I  like 
your  nerve  borrowing  off  of  me,  and  going  round  all 
diked  out  as  if  it  was  your  own !     I  give  six  dollars 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  265 

for  that  lalivaleer,  and  it  ain't  for  you  to  go  round 
all  diked  out  in,  and  lose  it,  like  as  not,  or  get  it 
busted  somehow  —  You  give  it  here!  You  give  it 
rio-ht  here  this  minute!  "  she  screeched  out  in  a  sud- 
den  fury,  moving  on  the  other  with  menacing  hands. 

"  Ain't  I?  Ain't  I  just  as  fast  as  I  can?  Mv  God, 
what  do  jou  take  me  for?  Think  I  want  to  swipe 
your  old  lahvaleer?  I  come  round  here  to-day,  just 
to  give  it  back  to  you.  Ain't  I  doing  it  as  fast  as  I 
can?"  screamed  out  Lutie,  her  face  flaming  as  she 
struggled  with  the  fastening  of  the  pendant;  she 
wrenched  it  loose  finally,  and  flung  the  thing  at  its 
owner.  "  There !  There's  your  old  lahvaleer ! 
S'pose  I  want  it?  I'll  let  you  know  if  you  think  you 
can  call  me  a  thief,  you  —  !  "  Eleanor  heard  a  lively 
interchange  of  epithets,  as  she  retreated  hastily  down 
the  stairs. 

She  was  not  alarmed  for  the  bodily  safety  of  either 
woman,  shrewdly  calculating  that  this  little  family 
disagreement  would  wear  itself  out  in  squalling  and 
foul  words.  Young  Mrs.  Loring  had  profited,  too,  by 
her  experience  at  this  kind  of  charity  work,  brief  as 
it  w^as ;  and  about  this  last  encounter  there  was  to  her 
something  as  grotesque  as  it  was  terrible.  For  it  icas 
terrible,  Eleanor  repeated  to  herself  as  she  walked 
on,  it  teas  terrible  for  people  to  try  to  live  and  bring 
up  children  on  fifteen  dollars  a  week.  Fifteen  dol- 
lars !  The  hat  she  was  wearing  cost  that  much !  The 
feeling  that  something  was  wrong,  monstrously  wrong 
somewhere,  came  back  upon  her  generous  spirit  in 
full  force.  When  an  inconvenient  sense  of  humour 
suggested  that  the  purchase  of  pinchbeck  jewellery 
scarcely  helped  to  solve  the  Morehead  problems  in 
domestic  economy,  and  that  certain  aspects  of  their 


266  THE  RUDDEE 

menage  could  be  improved  at  no  cost  except  tliat  of  a 
bar  of  soap  and  a  little  good- will,  Eleanor  silenced  it 
with  her  retort:  What  do  you  expect?  Can  you 
blame  that  poor  young  woman  for  liking  pretty 
things?  It  may  be  silly,  but  it  is  much  more  pitiful. 
Do  you  look  for  her  to  have  your  tastes  and  your 
standards?  She  does  not  know  how  to  be  clean,  to 
be  frugal,  to  be  thrifty.  Who  has  ever  taken  the  least 
interest  in  her,  or  tried  to  teach  her?  Not  you,  at 
any  rate.  Yet  is  it  not  somebody's  duty?  And  why 
not  yours,  Eleanor  Loring? 

At  the  corner  she  was  overtaken  by  the  fat  girl, 
walking  with  tempestuous  hurry,  still  simmering  from 
the  conflict;  she  shied  off  in  miserable  awkwardness, 
catching  Eleanor's  eye,  and  would  have  gone  charging 
by  her,  but  Eleanor  made  haste  to  speak. 

"  Oh,  you  go  my  way.  Do  you  live  near  here?  '^ 
she  said,  invitingly  shortening  her  own  step.  Lutie 
hesitated,  red-faced,  then  fell  in  beside  her.  "  Yeah. 
Right  up  here  on  Poplar." 

Eleanor  took  counsel  with  herself  and  framed  an- 
other remark.  "  It's  so  odd  I  never  knew  who  you 
were,  though  I've  seen  you  so  often  at  Mr.  Fritsch's. 
Y^ou've  been  ^dth  him  a  good  while,  haven't  you?  " 

"  Eight  years,"  said  Lutie  shortly. 

"  So  long  as  that?  It  must  be  a  nice  place,  then. 
Do  you  like  it?  " 

"  I  guess  it's  as  good  as  any.  Don't  make  much 
difference.  All  of  us  girls  has  to  work  somewhere, 
Mrs.  Loring,"  said  Lutie  Tvith  bitterness. 

^^  It  is  hard,"  said  Eleanor,  answering  the  feeling 
in  the  other's  voice  with  so  much  honest  sympathy 
in  her  own  that  Lutie  warmed  to  her  from  that  mo- 
ment.    "  I  don't  suppose  ordinary  work  really  hurts 


THE  WAGON  AND  THE  STAR  2GT 


anybody,"  said  Eleanor;  '^  but  it's  liard  for  a  girl  just 
the  same.     How  many  of  you  are  there? '' 

''  Well,  there's  Ella  and  Carrie  besides  me.  There's 
my  brothers  too,  of  course;  I've  got  three  brothers 
living  still  —  two  of  the  boys  died,  you  know."  Lutie 
hesitated  again,  then  said  bluntly:  "Mrs.  Loring^ 
who  told  you  about  Lina,  Tom's  wife,  you  know? 
Who  was  it  told  you  and  those  other  ladies  about 
her?  " 

"  It  was  a  Miss  Penry.  She  goes  around,  and  when- 
ever she  finds  people  that  are  —  that  she  thinks  are 
—  that  seem  to  need  a  little  help  — " 

"Oh,  that  old  thing  I  I  know  herf  said  Lutie. 
"  It's  a  lot  her  business,  ain't  it?  Well,  I  don't  mean 
she  ain't  nice,"  she  interpolated  apologetically.  "  But 
she  —  oh,  you  know  what  I  mean.  We  had  her  to 
board  with  us  one  winter  when  she  was  district-visit- 
ing around  that  way  she  does  —  just  plain  rubbering, 
that's  what  /  call  it.  It's  the  way  she  does  it,  you're 
not  a  hit  that  way! "  Lutie  affirmed  enthusiastically. 
And  hereupon  she  all  at  once  became  voluble,  eagerly 
confiding,  opening  her  mind  with  an  abandon  which 
w^ould  have  astonished  Eleanor  if  she  had  not  met 
with  it  before  among  Lutie's  kind;  she  thought  the 
readiness  with  which  they  poured  out  all  their  simple 
opinions,  beliefs  and  experiences  upon  the  slightest 
show  of  interest  was  very  touching.  "  I  wouldn't 
want  Miss  Penry  coming  around  me  —  not  that  she 
ain't  a  lady  and  nice  and  wants  to  do  for  you,  but  she 
just  don't  appeal  to  me  —  you  know  what  I  mean  — " 
She  squeezed  Eleanor's  arm.  "  Lina  don't  mind  what 
anybody  does  for  her,  though;  she'd  just  as  leave! 
Lina's  not  refined  —  of  course  you  know  that,  Mrs. 
Loring.     Her  folks  are  just  as  dago  as  can  be  —  her 


268  THE  RUDDER 

old  father  and  motlier,  I  mean  —  right  straight  from 
the  old  country.  They  ain't  like  Americans,  you 
know;  they\l  take  anything  anybody'd  do  for  'em. 
Tom  tvould  marry  her  —  you  can't  stop  a  man  —  and 
she  was  crazy  after  him,  never  let  him  alone  a  min- 
ute. You  wouldn't  believe  the  things  that  girl  done 
to  get  him !  "  Lutie  dilated  at  some  length  upon  what 
was  evidently  considered  a  mesalliance  in  the  More- 
head  family.  "  Well,  I  s'pose  it's  a  good  thing  some- 
hod  y's  looking  out  for  her.  She  can't  look  out  for 
herself,"  she  ended.     "  If  we  ain't  home  already !  " 

Eleanor  looked  up  at  the  row  of  windows  and  dingy 
lace  curtains  across  the  narrow  brick  front  with  the 
western  sun  blazing  against  it;  there  was  a  sign 
"  Furnished  Room "  in  one  of  them  with  a  forlorn 
plant  dying  in  a  gaudy  little  jardiniere  on  the  sill. 
She  looked  at  the  dusty,  dirty,  stone  steps,  at  the 
dusty,  dirty  walk  along  one  side  with  sodden  rags 
thrown  down,  and  old  newspapers  flapping  here  and 
there,  and  a  broken  chair  tilted  against  the  wall  in 
the  cool  dark  caiion  between  it  and  the  next  building. 
Eleanor  looked  without  flinching.  If  she  saw  there 
an  opportunity  for  doing  a  great  and  much-needed 
service,  she  saw  also  certain  freedom,  a  release  from 
her  dissatisfaction ;  and  with  all  her  fine,  hot  impulses, 
she  had  too  plentiful  an  endowment  of  ironic  penetra- 
tion and  common-sense  not  to  read  her  own  motives. 
She  was  no  heroine  in  her  own  eyes ;  merely  a  discon- 
tented woman,  trying  to  forget  herself  and  to  be  of 
some  use. 

"  '  Furnished  Room,'  "  she  read.  "  That's  where 
you  had  Miss  Penry,  I  suppose.  How  would  you  like 
to  have  another  lodger?  Would  you  have  me^  for  in- 
stance? " 


PART  THREE 
BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES 


CHAPTER  I 

SOCIETY  heard  without  any  great  commotion 
that  the  Amzi  Lorings  had  finally  agreed  —  for 
the  first  time  since  their  marriage,  it  was  sug- 
gested I  —  upon  one  point,  namely :  that  it  was  hope- 
less for  them  to  try  to  live  together  any  longer.  For 
once,  there  was  nothing  in  the  newspapers;  indeed 
nothing  happened  of  a  sensational  enough  nature  to 
be  worthy  of  print.  The  separation  was  conducted, 
people  said,  with  the  utmost  reserve  and  dignity  — 
trust  Nellie  Maranda  for  that !  But  for  that  matter, 
the  Loring  men  themselves  were  equally  averse  to 
publicity ;  and  he  would  have  been  a  plucky  journalist 
who  approached  Amzi  Two  on  the  subject.  Loring 
senior,  going  east  on  one  of  his  business  tours  shortly 
afterwards,  called  on  Mr.  Marshall  Cook  at  his  rooms 
at  the  Oasis  Club  to  explain  exactly  how  things  stood 
—  not  that  he  felt  that  his  son  needed  defence  or  jus- 
tification, as  he  was  very  careful  to  make  clear. 

"  They  couldn't  make  a  go  of  it,  so  they've  decided 
to  stop  trying,''  said  he.  "  I  don't  know  that  it  was 
the  fault  of  either  one  of  'em  —  they  simply  couldn't 
make  a  go  of  it.  Amzi's  my  son,  but  I  don't  want  to 
take  sides.  I  don't  claim  that  he  is  altogether  blame- 
less, but  I  guess  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  he's 
never  ill-treated  her,  or  run  around  with  other  women. 
Amzi  is  too  much  of  a  man  for  that  kind  of  low-down 
business — "  he  eyed  Cook  challengingly ;  and  then 
rather  spoiled  the  effect  of  this  expression  of  confi- 

271 


272  THE  EUDDER 

dence  by  adding :  "  Anyhow,  a  man's  got  to  live 
pretty  straight  and  take  care  of  himself,  if  he  exiDects 
to  stick  in  organised  athletics." 

"Oh,  I  know  that,  Mr.  Loring,"  Cook  assented  cor- 
dially. "  I'm  sure  of  that.  No  one  that  knew  him 
would  believe  any  charge  of  that  kind.  Besides,"  he 
went  on  with  a  half  smile;  "  if  he  ever  had  misbehaved 
that  way,  the  chances  are  that  Eleanor  would  have 
stuck  to  him  through  thick  and  thin !  She's  a  proud 
woman,  and  you  know  the  pride  of  women  is  a  very 
queer  thing." 

Mr.  Loring  looked  as  if  he  did  not  quite  grasp  this 
subtlety,  but  let  it  pass  as  of  no  particular  importance. 
"  Well,  neither  one  of  them  can  complain  of  the  other's 
having  done  anything  absolutely  icrong,  that's  what 
ought  to  be  distinctly  understood.  I  consider  that 
I'm  in  a  position  to  say,  as  I've  lived  in  the  same  house 
with  them  all  this  time  —  going  on  six  years.  Per- 
sonally, I  regret  this  very  much,  Mr.  Cook,  I  like  your 
niece ;  we've  never  had  a  word.  I'm  sorry  this  had  to 
happen;  but  I  don't  see  any  other  end  to  it.  They 
couldn't  grind  along  that  way  forever.  In  their  place 
I  would  get  a  divorce  and  be  done  Tvdth  it;  things  of 
that  nature  ought  to  be  settled  once  for  all ;  at  least 
that  would  be  my  idea.  It  could  have  been  done 
quietly  without  any  talk ;  it's  done  every  day.  How- 
ever, they  both  seemed  to  be  in  favour  of  just  separat- 
ing. I  don't  know  what  their  idea  is,  but  it  looks  to 
me  as  if  they  both  hated  like  poison  to  own  up  pub- 
licly that  they've  made  such  a  fizzle  of  it !  "  Here 
he  and  the  author  exchanging  a  glance,  both  men 
grinned  openly.  "  You  can't  account  for  the  things 
people  do,"  said  Amzi  One,  wagging  sagaciously. 
"  In  the  first  place,  they  run  off  to  get  married,  which 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  273 

they  didn't  need  to  do  the  least  in  the  world.  No- 
body was  hindering  them.  And  now  when  you'd 
think  they'd  be  good  and  tired  of  it,  and  would  jump 
at  the  chance  to  be  free  from  each  other,  why,  they 
haw  and  gee,  and  can't  make  up  their  minds !  How- 
ever, I  haven't  attempted  to  argue  with  them.  Best 
to  keep  out  of  it." 

"  If  they'd  had  children,  it  might  have  been  differ- 
ent." 

"  Yes.  But  that's  not  a  thing  that  a  person  can 
talk  to  them  about.  Well !  "  He  got  up.  ^^  I'm  very 
glad  to  have  had  this  little  talk  with  you,  Mr.  Cook. 
I  was  pretty  sure  you  would  feel  about  it  the  same  as 
I  do;  that  is,  that  they  have  to  be  let  alone.  Don't 
make  any  difference  what  mistakes  we  see  young  peo- 
ple making,  it's  no  good  our  trying  to  steer  'em.  I 
just  didn't  want  you  to  get  a  T\Tong  impression,  and 
think  I  was  indifferent.  It  seems  Eleanor's  got  a 
great  notion  of  supporting  herself  by  doing  some  kind 
of  uplift  work  in  the  slums.  I  suppose  you  know 
about  that?" 

Cook  nodded.  "  Yes,  she  wrote  me.  She's  always 
had  a  turn  for  it  —  always  wanted  to  do  something 
of  the  kind." 

"  Yes.  Well.  They  pay  her  something,  I  under- 
stand. Well,  she'll  probably  get  along  all  right. 
She's  very  fiery  and  enthusiastic  about  helping  those 
people;  I  guess  she'll  get  some  of  that  knocked  out 
of  her,  but  she'll  probably  get  along  all  right,"  said 
Mr.  Loring  Avith  his  habitual  detachment. 

Mrs.  Andrew  J.  Grace  was  president  of  the  Ma- 
ternity Society  that  winter;  at  seventy  years  of  age 
she  was  still  very  active  and  useful  in  charitable  work. 
And  she  presently  informed  her  granddaughter  that 


274  THE  RUDDER 

Mrs.  Loring  was  one  of  the  most  efficient  aides  they 
had.  "  She  always  has  her  reports  gotten  up  very  con- 
cisely for  the  monthly  meetings  —  of  course  any  one 
can  do  it,  it's  just  filling  out  cards  and  answering  in- 
quiries, but  hers  give  one  a  feeling  of  being  so  thor- 
ough and  reliable  somehoAv;  and  her  comments  are 
always  so  good.  She  seems  to  take  so  much  personal 
interest,  and  that's  what  those  poor  creatures  need 
most,  I've  no  doubt.  The  way  she  does  it  and  the 
things  she  says  sometimes  remind  me  a  good  deal  of 
Mr.  Cook  —  the  same  kind  of  humour  and  sympathy, 
you  know,  Bessie.  We  never  had  anybody  that  could 
do  it  so  well  before  —  not  even  Lorrie  Gilbert.  I 
only  hope  Mrs.  Loring  won't  wear  herself  out  at  it, 
that's  all;  a  great  deal  of  it  can't  help  but  be  very 
sordid  and  tiresome.  It's  so  strange  that  she  can  do 
it  so  well,  when  it  takes  all  sorts  of  tact  and  patience, 
and  they  say  she  couldn't  get  along  with  her  husband 
at  all ;  they  say  they  had  a  horrible  time." 

"  All  the  girls  say  that  she  has  a  very  high  temper. 
She  looks  as  if  she  might  have,  somehow.  Those 
formidable  straight  black  eyebrows !  Maybe  the  slum 
ladies  don't  mind  it ;  or  maybe  if  she'd  married  a  one- 
eyed  bricklayer  vrith  tuberculosis  she'd  have  been  a 
perfect  angel  to  him,"  Bessie  suggested. 

"  He  wouldn't  have  been  much  more  impossible  than 
this  Loring  man,  I  daresay.  Mercy,  will  you  ever 
forget  the  time  Mr.  Cook  came  and  told  us  about  the 
wedding!  Has  he  said  anything  to  you  about  this 
last  development?  " 

"  No  —  not  very  much,  that  is.  He's  mentioned  it, 
but  that's  all." 

^^Why,  I  thought  he  told  you  everything!"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Grace  unguardedly.     The  next  moment 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  275 

she  felt,  as  she  phrased  it  in  her  vexation,  as  if  she 
could  have  bitten  her  tongue  out  I  ''  I  must  be  getting 
childish  I  "  she  said  to  herself  wrathfuUy.  To  be  sure, 
Bessie's  expression  did  not  change;  but  her  small, 
immobile  features,  like  Mrs.  Grace's  own,  never  dis- 
l)lajed  much  expression,  whatever  she  felt  or  thought. 
She  picked  up  a  fine  little  trifle  of  ivoiy  carving  off 
of  her  desk,  and  turned  it  about  contemplatively,  as 
she  answered. 

^^  Oh,  ordinary  gossip,  yes.  He  talks  to  me  quite 
freely  in  that  way  at  times.  But  naturally  not  about 
his  own  family  so  much.  He's  very  fond  of  this  niece 
anyway ;  /ie  never  will  allow  that  she  is  high-tempered. 
It's  always  Nellie  is  so  '  spirited '  with  him."  Bessie 
put  the  ornament  down,  and  smiled  at  her  grand- 
mother, T\dth  impervious  blue  eyes. 

^'  Well,  when  you  write  to  him,  tell  him  what  a 
success  she  is  making  of  this  work.     He'll  be  pleased." 

"  Why  don't  you  write  and  tell  him  yourself?  I 
haven't  anything  particular  to  write  about  just  now," 
said  Miss  Grace  nonchalantly.  And  though  the  fat 
envelope  lying  on  the  desk  under  her  hand  had  ar- 
rived from  Marshall  that  Saturday  morning,  though 
Bessie  would  reply  to  it  without  fail  the  following 
Saturday,  Mrs.  Grace,  who  knew  all  this,  felt  some- 
how as  if  she  had  made  another  mistake. 

Xot  long  afterwards,  the  two  ladies,  going  through 
their  calling-list,  came  to  Mrs.  Maranda.  Once  a  year 
their  handsome  limousine  took  them  around  to 
^'  everybody "  in  succession,  Mrs.  Grace  preserving 
the  punctilious  habits  of  her  youth ;  so,  in  due  course, 
it  deposited  them  at  the  Church  Street  house.  And 
there  was  Mrs.  Maranda,  graciously  limp  in  her  in- 
valid's chair,  excusing  herself  from  rising  as  she  re- 


276  THE  RUDDER 

ceived  them;  and  Fannie,  sitting  with  her  back  to 
the  light,  rather  quiet  and  silent,  with  her  hands 
clasped  rigidly  in  her  lap;  and  there,  too,  as  it  hap- 
pened, was  Nellie  Loring  herself.  It  was  known  that 
she  had  scarcely  any  time  to  spare  for  visiting  even 
her  own  people  nowadays.  But  there  she  was,  tall 
and  slim,  indomitably  and  indefinably  elegant  as  ever, 
looking  as  if  she  had  never  been  near  a  slum  in  her 
life,  Bessie  told  her  uncle  afterwards.  "  I  am  sure 
Mrs.  Loring  is  just  such  another  as  the  old-fashioned 
heroines  of  novels  who  could  wear  one  dress  through 
three  volumes  and  all  kinds  of  strenuous  adventures, 
and  look  absolutely  fresh  and  beautiful  and  dainty 
up  to  the  very  end !  "  she  wrote,  to  Cook's  amusement. 
"  But  your  niece  is  a  much  more  flavoursome  person 
than  any  of  the  Amelias  and  Amandas  could  have 
been.  It  was  an  interesting  call."  Cook  read  that 
with  another  laugh.  He  guessed  that  the  Grace  ladies 
had  embarrassed  themselves  by  efforts  to  keep  away 
from  such  subjects  as  divorce;  and  perhaps  Eleanor 
had  had  a  tilt  with  Mrs.  Juliet.  No  doubt  it  had  been 
an  interesting  call ! 

Miss  Grace,  indeed,  did  feel  a  slight  awkwardness 
at  first,  thinking  of  the  separation,  and  —  in  spite  of 
her  denials  —  of  certain  confidential  statements  from 
Mr.  Cook  which,  very  likely,  he  had  no  business  to 
make.  "  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  you  before  without 
some  of  that  exquisite  fancy-work  you're  always  do- 
ing," she  said  to  Fannie,  by  way  of  making  talk. 

"I  —  I'm  not  working  on  anything  just  now,"  said 
Fannie,  loosening  her  hands  and  then  clasping  them 
together  more  tightly,  with  a  nervous  movement. 

"Poor  Fan's  eyes  have  given  out  completely. 
Isn't  it  a  pity?  "  Mrs.  Maranda  explained. 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  277 

Fannie  herself  said  nothing;  she  seemed  somehow 
to  shrink  together  as  the  others,  a  little  startled,  be- 
gan to  nnirniiir  inarticulate  sympathy,  but  Eleanor 
spoke  quickly. 

'^Oh,  not  completely,  Aunt  Juliet  I  That's  just  a 
phrase  — a  — a  way  of  talking,''  she  said,  and 
reached  out  and  took  one  of  her  sister's  idle  hands  in 
hers,  holding  it  firmly.  "  Fannie's  just  gone  and  over- 
worked, and  her  eyes  have  to  have  a  rest,  that's  all. 
They're  going  to  be  all  right  in  a  little  while." 

"  Eleanor  thinlvs  it's  proper  to  talk  in  that  encour- 
aging way,  but  /  believe  in  facing  the  worst.  It  takes 
more  moral  courage,  but  you  can  make  up  your  mind 
to  amjtJiing  if  you  try  —  if  you  only  exert  your  T\ill- 
power,''  said  Mrs.  Maranda  with  splendid  resolution. 
^^Dear  me,  with  my  ill-health,  I've  had  so  much  of 
that  to  do !  I  tell  Fannie  there's  nothing  gained  by 
deluding  yourself  with  false  hopes.  She  ought  to 
look  at  her  trouble  squarely  without  shrinking. 
Don't  you  think  I'm  right,  Mrs.  Grace?  Don't  you 
think  that's  the  best  way?  " 

"A  —  er  —  perhaps  so,"  said  the  old  lady,  turning 
her  round,  bright,  black  eyes  like  a  pair  of  jet 
cabochons  to  Fannie's  shadowed  face.  "  But  I  don't 
believe  there's  any  real  trouble  for  you  to  look  at,  my 
dear.  I  used  to* do  a  great  deal  of  that  dreadfully 
trying  fine  work  when  I  was  your  age,  but  I  had  to 
stop  it,  too.  It's  a  passing  thing,  of  course;  it  just 
teaches  one  to  be  careful." 

Mrs.  Maranda  smiled  tolerantly  and  shook  her 
head.  "That's  very  good  advice,  but  poor  Fan  is 
past  the  stage  when  being  careful  would  do  her  any 
good.  Doctor  Saunders  says  he  hopes  that  she  will 
never  go  entirely  blind,  but  will  always  be  able  to  see 


278  THE  RUDDER 

to  take  care  of  herself  and  to  get  around  the  house. 
He  Jiopes  so.  I  tell  Fannie  that  it's  her  duty  to  pre- 
pare herself  for  —  for  that  sort  of  a  future,  and  to 
make  the  best  of  it.  Fannie  always  has  been  more  or 
less  active,  but  now  if  she  has  to  be  useless,  why,  she 
has  to  be  useless,  that's  all.  Poor  Fan!  Of  course 
it  will  be  hard.'' 

"  It  would  be  very  hard  for  Mrs.  Maranda  espe- 
cially,'' said  Eleanor,  smiling  brightly  and  ingenu- 
ously around  the  circle.  "  She  might  have  to  hire  a 
sewing-girl  to  do  all  her  work  for  her,  and  I  don't 
think  any  of  them  can  sew  as  well  as  my  sister." 

^^  Don't,  Nell !  "  Fannie  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Fannie  loves  so  to  sew  and  embroider,  it's  been 
impossMe  for  me  to  stop  her,"  said  Mrs.  Maranda 
after  a  pause. 

"With  all  Aunt  Juliet's  iconderful  will-power, 
too !  "  Nellie  pointed  out  admiringly  to  the  others;  her 
tone  w^as  sincerity  itself. 

"  Do  you  know,  Mrs.  Loring,  you  remind  me  very 
much  of  Mr.  Cook,  sometimes,"  said  Miss  Grace,  some- 
what abruptly  and  irrelevantly. 

^'  Do  I  ? "  said  Eleanor,  colouring,  well  pleased. 
"  I  like  to  be  told  that ! "  Suddenly  she  seemed  to 
the  other  a  different  w^oman,  candid  and  warmly 
charming.  The  impression  flashed  and  vanished,  yet 
w^as  registered  on  Bessie's  mind,  as  if  with  the  snap- 
ping of  some  inward  camera,  she  fancied;  she  won- 
dered what  it  was  that  she  had  seen,  and  in  what  the 
likeness  to  Cook  had  consisted.  For  now  Mrs.  Lor- 
ing was  again  only  a  very  handsome  woman  with  a 
kind  of  crystalline  hardness  about  her ;  and  how  Mar- 
shall would  have  laughed  at  the  sujrgestion  of  his  be- 
ing either  hard  or  handsome! 


'&&^ 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  279 


a 


Mj  grandmotlier  is  enthusiastic  about  the  way 
YOU  manage  the  Maternity  Society  cases,"  she  said. 
"  They've  had  ever  so  many  helpers,  but  no  one  half 
so  good  as  you,  she  says/' 

''  I'm  interested  in  the  work,  you  know." 

"  You  must  be  to  go  and  live  — "  Bessie  began. 
Then:  "Good  gracious  I  What  am  I  saying!"  she 
thought,  checking  herself,  panic-struck. 

"  Yes.  I  have  a  room  down  on  Poplar  Street," 
said  Eleanor  calmly.  "  It's  convenient  to  my  dis- 
trict." 

"  You  know,  of  course,  Mrs.  Grace,  that  Eleanor 
doesn't  have  to  do  it,''  Mrs.  Maranda  interposed.  "  I 
want  her  to  feel  that  her  home  is  here  with  me  just 
as  it  always  was  before  —  er  —  before,  you  know. 
My  husband's  children  are  welcome  to  all  I  have,  just 
as  if  they  were  my  own,  it  doesn't  make  any  difference 
u-Jiat  happens.  But  she  icill  go  and  live  among  those 
dreadful  people,  as  if  her  necessities  drove  her  to  it. 
I  was  saying  to  her  just  as  you  came  in  that  I  should 
think  she  would  want  to  have  herself  sterilised  or 
sprinkled  with  formaldehyde  or  something  before  she 
goes  to  anybody's  house  —  any  decent  i^erson's,  I 
mean.  She  doesn't  know  what  kind  of  infection  she 
may  be  distributing  around  I  " 

"Well,  you  know  having  babies  isn't  at  all  infec- 
tious," Mrs.  Grace  objected  with  amusement ;  "  if 
Mrs.  Loring  isn't  exposed  to  anything  but  that  — 
{Horrors!  What  kUJ  that  sound  like  to  her?)  — 
Have  you  got  a  nice  place  to  board,  Mrs.  Loring?  " 
she  asked  precipitately. 

"  Oh,  yes,  good  enough.  It's  with  some  people 
named  Morehead,"  said  Eleanor.  "  They  try  to  be 
nice  to  me.     Respectable  people,  you  know,  although 


280  THE  EUDDER 

Mr.  Morehead  gets  drunk  once  in  a  while.  They 
keep  liim  out  of  the  way  until  he's  presentable  again, 
and  he's  not  bothered  me  so  far.  To  be  sure  I'm  not 
about  the  house  much ;  I  have  to  be  out  making  visits 
almost  all  day." 

"  Morehead?  Oh,  I  remember.  You  had  a  report 
some  time  ago  about  a  Mrs.  Morehead.  Is  that  the 
place  where  you  are?"  inquired  Mrs.  Grace,  display- 
ing a  most  vivacious  interest  in  her  relief  at  getting 
safely  away  from  what  promised  to  be  a  ticklish 
neighbourhood. 

"  No.  It's  the  same  family,  though  —  a  married 
son.  No,  I'm  afraid  even  I  couldn't  stand  living  with 
those  people,"  said  Eleanor,  with  what  seemed  to  Mrs. 
Maranda  a  hideous  deliberation.  What  was  Eleanor 
going  to  say  next?  What  mortifying  revelation  was 
she  about  to  make?  She  kept  her  step-mother  poised 
in  well-nigh  unbearable  apprehension,  and  then  with 
tactics  truly  feline  —  so  it  looked  to  Juliet  — deferred 
the  moment !  ''  They  will  probably  have  to  have  more 
help,  Mrs.  Grace,"  she  said.  "  I  was  going  to  bring 
up  their  case  at  the  next  meeting.  The  man  drinks, 
too,  and  is  out  of  employment  half  the  time ;  he  hasn't 
any  trade,  and  can't  really  do  anything  except  or- 
dinary day  labour.  And  his  wife  is  very  shiftless  and 
ignorant.  Their  baby  is  about  six  months  old  now,  a 
poor,  sickly  little  thing  —  she  doesn't  seem  capable 
of  learning  how  to  take  care  of  it — "  she  went  on 
giving  Mrs.  Grace  further  details,  without  even  glanc- 
ing towards  the  lady  of  the  house,  speechless  in  her 
chair.  The  fact  was,  as  Eleanor  readily  guessed,  that 
both  the  Grace  ladies  had  forgotten  all  about  Mrs. 
Maranda's  family  connections  and  maiden  name, 
which  were  not  of  nearly  so  much  importance  to  the 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  281 

community  as  poor  Mrs.  Juliet  naively  believed  them 
to  be.  Her  terrors  were  quite  needless,  so  Eleanor 
benevolently  took  care  to  prolong  and  aggravate  them 
by  those  sharp  devices  of  T\'hich  she  was  mistress. 
She  had  long  ago  gauged  what  she  chose  to  consider 
the  small  shallows  of  Mrs.  Maranda's  spirit,  and 
knew  to  a  nicety  how  to  perplex,  to  annoy,  to  frighten 
or  aggrieve  her. 

Mrs.  and  Miss  Grace  took  their  leave  at  length,  and 
re-entered  their  stately  vehicle,  and  continued  their 
round,  the  elder  lady  checking  off  the  last  name  with 
the  remark  that  she  supposed  they  might  never  have 
kept  up  the  Maranda  acquaintance  at  all  if  it  had 
not  been  for  Mr.  Cook.  "  Knowing  him  so  well,  it 
wouldn't  seem  quite  nice  not  to  pay  his  people  some 
attention  —  though,  by  the  way,  I  don't  think  he  cares 
very  much  about  any  of  them  himself,  except  Mrs. 
Loring." 

"  She  is  the  only  person  in  the  family,  that's  evi- 
dent," said  Bessie.  "  Everybody  always  says  that 
Mrs.  Maranda  is  a  sweet,  good  woman,  and  she's 
done  everything  for  those  girls,  but  somehow  I  — 
well,  she  might  be  pretty  tiresome  to  live  with,  I 
imagine.  I  thought  it  was  rather  tactless  and 
thoughtless  the  way  she  talked  to  that  poor  thing 
who  may  be  going  blind.  Yet  she  meant  well,  I'm 
sure.'' 

^'  It  wasn't  tactless  and  thoughtless,  it  was  down- 
right stupid  I ''  said  Mrs.  Grace,  forcibly.  ^^  It  made 
me  think  of  what  your  grandfather  used  to  say ;  that 
one  good,  kind  fool  could  do  more  harm  and  cause 
more  suffering  than  all  the  villains  in  creation 


f '? 


'j-« 


She  smiled  at  the  remembrance,  then  sighed,  and  they 
were  silent  for  a  while,  gazing  out  of  the  carriage 


282  THE  KUDDER 

windows  but  witlioiit  seeing  the  landscape,  as  they 
thought  of  the  dead  man. 

"  Well/'  said  Bessie  at  last.  ^'  Our  young  friend, 
Mrs.  Loring,  is  no  fool  —  anything  but !  One  can  see 
that.  And  she's  not  a  villain  either,  for  all  those 
Mephistophelian  eyebrows.  I  don't  know  what  she 
is.     I  can't  quite  make  her  out." 


CHAPTER  II 

ELEANOR'S  room  at  the  Morelieads  was  fur- 
nished with  an  iron  bedstead  intricately 
scrolled  and  floriated,  which  she  innocently 
supposed  to  be  enamelled  a  greyish  drab  until  it 
emerged  from  her  scrubbing  white,  as  originally,  save 
where  the  paint  had  scaled  off  in  patches ;  the  bedding 
was  approximately  the  same  colour  before  she  ef- 
fected some  changes  in  it  also.  There  was  a  golden- 
oak  dressing-table  with  a  heart-shaped  mirror,  a  wash- 
stand,  and  a  little,  palsied,  tiipod-like  table  of  no 
recognisable  wood  or  other  material;  to  the  eye  and 
touch  it  gave  the  impression,  even  after  repeated  wash- 
ings, of  being  cast  out  of  solidifying  liquorice.  There 
were  besides  a  Morris  chair  with  the  arms  sawed  in 
the  likeness  of  a  lion's  head  in  profile,  and  cushions 
of  red  velveteen;  an  iron  mantelpiece  draped  with  a 
strip  of  pink  silk  the  ends  finished  with  a  kind  of 
fringe  of  little  tin  crescents  alternating  with  little 
balls  of  pink  chenille;  a  dust-hued  paper  of  no  per- 
ceptible pattern  on  the  walls,  nicely  harmonising  with 
the  carpet  on  the  floor ;  and  a  pink  stoneware  cuspidor, 
wreathed  with  roses  in  bas-relief.  There  were  lace 
curtains.  The  back  of  the  flreplace  had  fallen  in, 
partly  dislodging  the  grate  which  was  sagging  side- 
wise,  and  the  rubbish,  bricks,  soot  and  old  ashes 
augmented  by  a  stray  medicine-bottle,  burnt  matches, 
webs  of  cotton  string  and  wads  of  paper  sprawled  over 

283 


284  THE  KUDDER 

tlie  iron  fender,  Mrs.  Morehead  not  having  had  time 
yet,  as  she  explained,  to  straighten  or  remove  it. 

This  was  Mrs.  Homer  Morehead,  who  was  now  fat 
and  middle-aged  with  a  quantity  of  dead-looking,  grey- 
ish-yellowish hair  that  grew  in  lovely  waves  and  ten- 
drils framing  her  large,  thick-featured  face ;  in  youth, 
it  was  probably  brilliantly  blond,  and  one  of  her  main 
attractions,  though  she  must  have  been  a  very  pretty 
woman.  It  was  natural  that  years  of  hard  work, 
small  means  and  the  cares  of  a  family  should  have 
withered  her,  although,  to  tell  the  truth,  Mrs.  "  Junk,'' 
even  to  Eleanor's  inexperienced  eyes,  had  not  the  ap- 
pearance of  ever  having  suffered  greatly  from  any  of 
these  things  —  certainly  not  from  work  or  worry  at 
any  rate.  And,  in  fact,  she  herself,  at  their  first  in- 
terview, avowed  frankly  that  she  was  no  longer 
capable  of  either;  she  was  an  invalid,  it  seemed! 

"  I  can't  do  much,  I'm  so  kinda  weak  —  I  get  kinda 
weak  spells  with  my  heart  or  nerves,  I  don't  know 
which  it  is,  and  then  I  can't  do  a  living  thing,"  she 
continued,  a  propos  of  the  grate,  dropping  into  the 
Morris  chair  that  cried  aloud  under  her  w^eight ;  "  and 
I've  hardly  ever  got  any  help,  the  girls  being  out  all 
the  time,  you  know,  and  they  won't  hardly  lift  a  hand 
when  they  come  home  anyhow,  so  it's  no  wonder 
things  don't  get  done,  if  I  slave  and  slave,  even.  I 
can't  do  everything.  I  ain't  hardly  had  the  stren'th 
to  get  up  here  since  Miss  Penry  went.  Well,  this  is 
the  room.  Mis'  Loring.  I  guess  it  ain't  like  what 
you've  had,  but  poor  people  can't  have  things,  you 
know." 

"  It's  very  nice,  I  expect  to  be  perfectly  comfort- 
able," said  Eleanor  heroically.  "  The  landlord  ought 
to  fix  that  grate  for  you,  oughtn't  he?  " 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  285 

"  Well,  I  want  the  parlour  papered,  and  I  don't  be- 
lieve he'll  do  both,"  said  Mrs.  Morchead  with  more 
animation.  "  You  know  how  ^nen  are.  If  I  told  him 
about  the  2:rate  first,  he  d  say  it  ought  to  be  attended 
to  right  off,  and  we  could  wait  for  the  paper.  I  just 
thought  I  wouldn't  tell  him  for  a  while  —  there's  the 
swellest  paper  with  roses  and  a  kinda  little  gold  net- 
work running  all  over,  and  you  cut  out  the  border,  I 
seen  on  a  lady  friend  of  mine's  parlour  the  other  day 
that  she  just  had  done.  That's  the  kind  I'm  going  to 
have.  There  ain't  anything  much  the  matter  with 
that  grate  really.  You  could  prop  it  up  at  this  end 
with  a  little  piece  of  brickbat  and  it  wouldn't  ever 
show  in  the  world,  and  I'll  bet  Homer  can  put  that 
back  where  it's  fell  in,  so's  it'll  do.  You  won't  need  it 
so  long  as  the  weather  keeps  hot  anyway.  Homer's 
a  handy  boy  at  anything  like  that." 

"A  boy?  Oh,  you  have  a  son  Homer?" 
"  Yes.  Named  after  his  Pa.  I'll  have  him  clean 
up  them  ashes  and  truck  for  you.  Mis'  Loring,  and 
anything  else  you  want  done,"  said  Mrs.  Morehead, 
looking  vaguely  around.  Then  she  returned  to  a 
minute  survey  and  appraisal  of  Eleanor's  toilette  — 
as  it  seemed  —  her  gaze  moving  slowly  over  it  from 
top  to  toe.  "  I  guess  your  bathroom  at  home's  all 
solid  marble,  ain't  it? "  she  asked,  irrelevantly. 
^^  There  ain't  any  water  in  this  house,  only  on  the  first 
floor." 

"  Oh,  that's  no  matter.     I  can  manage." 
"  Homer'll  carry  up  for  you,  if  you  want.     Say,  do 
pardon  me,  Mis'  Loring,  but  that  baby-Irish  on  your 
w^aist  is  the  swellest  thing  I  ever  saw  I     It's  put  in  so 
cute  — " 

^'  Isn't  that  your  bell  ringing?  "  interrupted  Elea- 


286  THE  RUDDER 

nor,   the   gong   at   the  front   door  having,   in   fact, 
whanged  thunderously  twice  in  the  last  half  minute. 

"  Oh,  I  guess  it's  just  the  mail-man,  and  nothing  but 
a  circular  anyway,"  said  Mrs.  Morehead,  serenely  in- 
ert in  the  Morris  chair.  ^'  Homer'll  go ;  he  always 
does  if  he's  anywheres  around.  Say,  pardon  my 
curiosity,  but  did  you  have  that  waist  made  or  is  it 
a  bought  model?  " 

"  Neither  one.  I  made  it  myself,  lace  and  all,"  said 
Eleanor;  ^^  I'm  glad  you  like  it,"  she  added  kindly. 

"^^  Made  it  yourself?  You  never — ?  And  the  lace, 
too  I     Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that !  " 

"  Why,  it's  not  at  all  hard.  I'll  show  you  the  stitch. 
You  know  how  to  crochet,  don't  you?  " 

"  Oh,  I  ain  t  any  time  for  crochet-work,  thanks  just 
the  same,"  said  Mrs.  Morehead,  suddenly  losing  in- 
terest. "  It  takes  all  my  strength  to  run  this  house. 
Poor  people  can't  do  things  like  that,  Mis'  Loring. 
Y^ou'll  find  out." 

Some  imp  spurred  Eleanor  to  suggest  that  she 
might  instruct  the  all-efficient  Homer  in  the  art  of 
crocheting;  he  could  doubtless  compass  it.  But  she 
good-naturedly  refrained,  asking,  instead :  "  I  won- 
der if  I  could  speak  to  your  little  boy  now?  I'd  like 
to,  if  it's  not  too  much  trouble  to  get  him." 

"  Oh,  my,  no !  He's  somewhere,  I  expect.  You  can 
'most  always  get  Homer  easy  enough,"  Mrs.  More- 
head  assured  her ;  and  in  point  of  fact,  nothing  could 
have  been  easier  than  the  method  of  getting  Homer, 
which  she  forthwith  demonstrated  without  stirring 
from  the  chair.  She  raised  her  voice  in  a  prolonged 
and  penetrating  cry :  '^  Ho-o-mer.^  0-o-oh,  Eo-o-o- 
mer !  " 

The  incantation  was  successful,  in  that  it  raised 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  287 

an  answering  hoot  from  the  depths  of  the  house : 
"Wh-at?  All  riM''  And  directly  they  heard  dis- 
tant movements,  steps,  and  a  door  banging. 

"  Homer's  not  just  what  you'd  call  a  little  boy, 
though  he's  small  for  his  age,"  his  mother  further  ex- 
pounded indifferently.  "  He's  going  on  fourteen. 
He  got  a  kind  a  set-back  when  he  was  real  little,  so  I  i 
don't  believe  he'll  ever  be  like  he  was  full-grown  — 
like  a  life-size  man,  you  know.  Some  of  them  men 
down  to  the  saloon  useta  get  him  in  there  and  give 
him  something  to  drink  —  fill  him  up  so's  to  see  him 
act  funny,  you  know,  and  I've  always  thought  that's 
what  done  it.  Set  him  back  that  way  in  his  growth, 
I  mean.     But  he's  plenty  strong." 

Eleanor  looked  at  her  tranquil  face,  listened  to 
her  even  utterance  in  a  kind  of  unbelieving  yet  con- 
vinced horror;  she  saw^  that  the  thing  was  too  mon- 
strous not  to  be  true;  and  every  faculty  w^ithin  her 
blazed  up  in  white-hot  anger.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say 
that  you — ?"  she  began;  and  then,  to  her  credit  be 
it  said,  Eleanor  arrested  herself.  Of  what  use  was 
her  late-coming  denunciation?  She  would  only 
puzzle  and  antagonise  this  dull,  gelatinous  creature, 
she  would  only  further  becloud  that  little  puddle  of  a 
soul ;  and  if  she  was  to  help  this  class  of  people  at  all, 
it  was  imperative  that,  first  of  all,  she  should  gain  their 
confidence,  their  liking.  She  amended  her  question 
hastily :     "  Do  the  men  still  do  that?  " 

"What?  Make  him  drunk?  No,  not  any  more. 
Homer  got  on  to  'em  after  a  while  —  when  he  begun 
to  get  older,  you  know,  and  then  he  stopped  his  own 
self.  He  wouldn't  let  'em  give  him  no  more;  he 
wasn't  going  to  be  made  fun  of.  Homer's  always  been 
a  smart  kid." 


288  THE  EUDDER 

Here  Homer  arrived;  he  came  no  farther  than  the 
threshold  whence  he  threw  a  glance  at  Mrs.  More- 
head,  accompanied  by  an  interrogative  grunt,  and 
immediately  fixed  his  whole  attention  on  Eleanor, 
who,  for  her  part,  was  not  less  interested.  They  ex- 
changed a  searching  stare.  It  was  a  relief  to  find  that 
there  was  nothing  repellently  dwarfish  about  the  boy's 
short,  thick  figure  and  disprof)ortionately  big,  strong- 
looking  hands  and  feet,  though  Eleanor  found  herself 
silently  concurring  in  his  mother's  opinion  that  he 
would  never  reach  the  normal  stature  of  a  man.  She 
thought  he  did  not  have  a  bad  face;  it  was  like  a 
thousand  other  faces  neither  homely  nor  handsome, 
and  his  light  grey  eyes  met  her  steadily. 

"  Yeah.  Sure.  I  can  fix  it,''  he  said  when  the 
needs  of  the  fireplace  had  been  pointed  out.  '^  Yeah, 
I  can  carry  the  buckets  up  and  dovrn  for  you  —  if  I 
don't  get  no  steady  job  that'll  take  me  away,  that  is." 
He  appeared  to  reflect,  then  announced :  "  I  guess  I 
can  do  it  anyway.  You  won't  want  'em  except  morn- 
ings and  evenings,  will  you?  '' 

"  I  told  you  Homer  would,"  said  Mrs.  Morehead, 
placidly.  "  You  won't  need  to  keep  after  him  to  make 
Mm,  either,  Mrs.  Loring.     Homer's  smart." 

"  It  don't  take  any  smartness  to  carry  buckets," 
said  Homer  drily.  "  Say,  Maw,  Mrs.  Sullivan's  over 
to  see  you.     She's  downstairs  now." 

Mrs.  Morehead  departed  with  alacrity;  she  was 
equally  fatigued  with  her  prospective  lodger's  society, 
and  anxious  to  flourish  her  before  Mrs.  Sullivan. 
Eleanor  and  the  boy  were  left  still  openly  examining 
each  other,  Eleanor  from  her  chair  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  slim,  erect  and  unconsciously  brilliant  in 
her  plain  and  immaculate  dress  with  her  parasol 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  289 

across  her  knees,  and  ITomer  planted  in  the  doorway, 
his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  shabby  old  trousers 
girdled  about  him  with  a  strap. 

^^  Homer,"  said  Eleanor  with  gravity.  "  Your 
mother  didn't  say  anything  about  it,  but  I  don't  ex- 
pect you  to  do  these  things  for  me  for  nothing.  That 
wouldn't  be  very  good  business,  it  seems  to  me/'  said 
Eleanor,  quoting  Amzi  One  with  relish. 

Homer  responded  with  the  extremely  practical  re- 
mark that  if  she  hadn't  said  anything,  he  would  have! 
^^  It's  five  cents  a  bucket,  up  or  down." 

"  Five  cents  up  or  down.     Very  good." 

There  ensued  a  pause  during  which  Homer  ap- 
peared to  be  considering  some  other  proposition,  which 
he  finally  introduced :     "  Say  —  I  " 

"  Yes?  "  said  Eleanor,  instantly  applying  herself 
to  listen  in  a  fashion  which  seemed  somehow  to  sat- 
isfy or  reassure  the  boy ;  he  came  a  step  into  the  room, 
and  spoke  with  a  certain  caution. 

"  I  don't  ever  give  away  a  business  deal.  I  don't 
tell  nobody  how  much  I'm  making,  nor  nothing  else 
about  it,  see?  "  said  he,  his  eyes  searching  hers  with 
the  strangest  mixed  expression  of  anxiety,  confidence 
and  a  silent  entreaty  that  both  perplexed  and  touched 
her. 

"  I  suppose  that  is  the  best  way,"  she  said. 

"  'Tain't  sense  to  let  folks  know  how  much  you  got," 
Homer  insisted. 

"  No,  indeed." 

Homer  eyed  her  doubtfully.  "  I  won't  put  the  price 
up  on  you,  but  I  won't  throw  in  no  extras,  neither," 
he  warned. 

"  To  be  sure  not !     A  bargain's  a  bargain." 

"  All  right !  "  said  Homer,  suddenly  brisk.     "  Now 


290  THE  KUDDER 

jou  tell  me  what  all  you  want  done,  and  I'll  get 
busy." 

After  this  fashion  began  Eleanor's  stay  on  Poplar 
Street.  The  young  woman  entered  upon  it  with  some- 
thing of  the  spirit  of  the  pioneer  settlers  in  our  wilder- 
nesses aforetime,  to  whom  the  assurance  that  a  thing 
could  not  be  done  was  a  challenge  to  do  it;  and  it 
may  be  that  she  also  shared  a  little  in  their  courage, 
their  persistency,  their  unconscious  or  voiceless  ideal- 
ism. Add  to  these  a  good  strong  constitution  and 
some  sense  of  humour,  both  of  which  she  possessed, 
and  it  would  be  hard  to  find  a  combination  of  qualities 
better  fitting  one  for  charity  work.  To  her  applauding 
or  concerned  friends,  Eleanor  would  reply  that  of 
course  it  was  uncomfortable,  but  of  what  importance 
was  that?  It  was  interesting.  She  worked  —  oh  yes. 
But  she  had  tried  being  idle,  and  that  was  the  most 
tiresome  business  on  earth.  She  might  not  make 
quite  the  success  she  had  expected,  still  she  did  once 
in  a  while  "  get  results  "  which  were  sufficiently  en- 
couraging. And  she  was  continually  learning  some- 
thing. 

For  instance  —  although  in  her  mingled  amusement 
and  discomfiture  she  confided  this  to  no  one  except 
her  Uncle  Marshall  —  she  discovered  that  she  had 
rather  lost  caste,  not  among  her  own  class,  but  with 
those  whom  she  wanted  to  serve,  by  coming  to  dwell 
among  them!  Young  Mrs.  Amzi  Loring  with  her 
automobiles  and  toilettes,  and  her  name  in  the  ^^  So- 
ciety Jottings ''  column  of  the  Observer  every  Sun- 
day was  a  much  more  striking  and  satisfying  person- 
age than  the  same  Mrs.  Loring  removed  from  her 
glittering  background  and  accessories,  and  washing 
a  bedstead  in  Mrs.  Junk  Morehead's  front  room.     It 


BEEAD  AND  CIRCUSES  291 

lias  probably  always  been  at  a  considerable  loss  of 
prestige  that  the  mighty  haye  descended  from  their 
seats  to  hob-nob  with  the  un-mighty.  "  Of  course 
these  people  don't  want  to  be  patronised,  and  they 
are  not  snobs  in  our  sense  of  the  word,  but  I  actually 
seem  to  haye  made  more  impression  on  them  when  I 
was  more  distant,  and  obyiously  a  great  deal  better 
off  I ''  Eleanor  reflected.  It  was  as  if  they  had  en- 
joyed pointing  out  to  her  and  contemplating  them- 
selyes  the  contrast  between  her  affluence  and  their 
poyerty;  and  obscurely  resented  the  fact  that  this 
contrast  no  longer  existed.  Instead,  as  Eleanor  dem- 
onstrated, the  difference  nowadays  was  mainly  that 
between  being  clean  and  being  dirty,  being  lazy  and 
being  industrious,  being  thrifty  and  being  improyi- 
dent;  but  who  wanted  to  be  shown  ilicit? 

Xot  the  Morehead  family,  at  all  eyents.  They  w^it- 
nessed  their  tenant's  reforms  in  her  small  territory 
with  abundant  curiosity  and  amusement,  but  —  except- 
ing possibly  Lutie  —  without  the  faintest  impulse  to 
emulate  them.  The  younger  women  enyied  Eleanor's 
''  style,''  her  hair,  her  figure,  her  complexion,  while 
continuing  to  deck  themselyes  with  soiled  sham  finery, 
to  pile  their  heads  in  extrayagant  copy  of  the  season's 
most  extrayagant  fashions,  to  ajDply  rouge  and  powder 
in  lieu  of  taking  a  bath.  They  maryelled  at  her  deft 
and  quiet  moyements,  at  the  pleasant  intonations  of 
her  yoice ;  and  went  on  banging  doors,  holding  squawk- 
ing conyersations  between  the  third  floor  and  the 
cellar,  slamming  and  shoying  the  furniture  and  one 
another.  Mrs.  Morehead  slopped  about  the  house  in 
apparel  of  an  indescribable  age  and  negligence,  some- 
times going  through  perfunctory  motions  with  a 
broom  and  duster;  more  often  she  sat  in  the  parlour 


292  THE  RUDDER 

most  of  the  morning  reading  a  novel  or  the  Mid- 
niglit  Belly  and  spent  the  afternoon  gossiping  on 
her  own  front  steps  or  a  neighbour's  when  the  weather 
was  warm,  huddled  by  one  or  other  of  their  respective 
kitchen  stoves  when  it  was  cold.  Always  there  was 
a  stack  of  dishes  in  a  pan  of  greasy  water  in  the  sink, 
always  a  chilly,  depressing  mess  of  sheets  or  under- 
wear or  weird  nameless  rags  soaking  in  a  tub  set  on 
an  upturned  chair,  always  a  penetrating  aroma  of 
food  cooking  or  stale,  of  musty  carpets  and  of  a  mys- 
terious something,  subtly  alcoholic  which  Eleanor, 
after  much  observation,  at  last  identified  as  Mr.  More- 
head.  "  I'm  sure  from  his  looks,  if  you  lighted  one 
end  of  him  he'd  blaze  up  like  a  torch,"  she  wrote  her 
uncle.  "  He  must  be  fairly  steeped  in  whiskey.  The 
hot  days  when  I  first  came  here,  he  used  to  pass  dozing 
in  a  chair  tilted  against  the  wall  in  the  alley-waj^  be- 
tween the  two  houses.  When  the  weather  changed  he 
took  to  sleeping  indoors  on  the  floor  —  any  floor  any- 
where. I  have  never  seen  him  do  anything  else.  Ow- 
ing to  this  careful  avoidance  of  exertion,  and  to  the 
alcohol  which  everybody  knows  is  a  sovereign  pre- 
servative, I  have  no  doubt,  though  he  is  a  dreary, 
feeble,  long,  lean  scarecrow  with  apparently  one  foot 
in  the  grave,  he  vdW  outlast  all  the  righteous,  hard- 
w^orking  teetotallers  by  half  a  lifetime!  Mr.  Ken- 
clrick,  whom  I  have  got  to  know  quite  well,  says  that 
^  Junk '  is  just  like  certain  unsalable  stocks,  he'll  al- 
ways have  a  '  nuisance  value  '  I  " 

Eleanor,  in  fact,  chanced  so  often  in  her  walks 
abroad,  upon  Mr.  Kendrick  whose  interests,  it  would 
seem,  took  him  likewise  into  these  humble  neighbour- 
hoods, that  she  arrived  not  only  at  knowing  him  much 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  293 

better,  but  at  rather  welcoming  the  sight  of  his  stiff, 
leathery  countenance  creasing  into  a  smile  (^'Ex- 
actly like  an  old  boot-leg!''  she  described  it)  when 
they  encountered.  But  it  was  not  until  coming  home 
one  day  and  finding  him  at  the  door  that  she  found  out 
he  was  the  landlord,  or,  more  rigidly  speaking,  the 
landlord's  agent,  the  hard-fisted  individual  who  pre- 
ferred making  necessary  repairs  to  laying  out  money 
on  unnecessary  decorations. 

''  Well,  we're  even,"  he  said.  "  I  hadn't  any  idea 
you  were  the  Moreheads'  '  lady-roomer.'  "  And  to 
Eleanor's  surprise,  he  chuckled  heartily ;  but  she  her- 
self laughed  when  he  explained  that  Mrs.  Morehead 
had  laid  a  startling  increase  in  their  water -bill  at  the 
"  lady-roomer's  "  door.  ^^  She  says  she  never  saw  any- 
body use  so  much  water.     It's  a  scandal  I  " 

Eleanor  told  him  about  the  arrangement  with 
Homer  junior.  "  He  seems  to  think  it  very  business- 
like to  keep  these  financial  transactions  quiet,  but  I 
don't  think  he'd  mind  my  telling  you/^ 

Mr.  Kendrick's  smile  vanished.  ^'  Why,  Mrs.  Lor- 
ing,"  he  said;  "don't  you  know  what  the  boy  meant? 
They'd  take  his  money  away  from  him,  if  they  knew 
he  had  any.  He  wants  to  keep  it  for  himself.  You 
can't  exactly  blame  him.     He  earns  it." 

"  Blame  him!  "  cried  out  Eleanor;  "  I  don^t  blame 
him !  Why,  that  worthless  father  of  his  would  drink 
it  all  up !  Homer  himself  seems  to  me  a  very  decent 
sort  of  boy;  at  least  he  has  some  sense  and  some  am- 
bition. He  told  me  he  was  going  to  buy  himself  a 
knitted  woollen  sweater  when  he  had  saved  up  enough. 
He  said  he  wanted  to  be  warm  this  winter  anyicaij: 
I  daresay  the  poor  boy  has  never  been  warm  in  his 


294  THE  KUDDEE 

life.  No  wonder  lie  didn't  want  me  to  tell,  and  I 
certainly  won't !  I  don't  see  how  anybody  could  blame 
liim." 

"  He's  a  minor,  you  know,  so  his  parents  have  a 
right  in  law  to  every  last  cent  he  makes,"  Mr.  Ken- 
drick  rejoined.  "  However,  I'm  with  3'Ou !  "  he  added 
with  his  dry  smile.     "  I  hope  Homer'll  hang  onto  it!  " 

Eleanor  was  about  to  burst  out  with  the  opinion 
that  such  a  law  was  abominable,  when  a  better  illum- 
ination revealed  to  her  that  it  was  not  abominable, 
only  inevitable,  being  based  like  every  other  law  on  a 
profound,  however  unjustified,  distrust  of  human  na- 
ture. After  all,  how  many  young  people  voluntarily 
do  their  duty?  How  many  people  of  any  age,  for  that 
matter?  The  Morehead  young  women  contributed 
something,  each  one  of  them,  to  the  family  funds,  but 
by  no  means  ungTudgingly,  as  Eleanor  knew.  On 
Saturday  nights  there  was  always  a  grand  screech- 
ing wrangle,  every  word  of  which  ascended  with  per- 
fect distinctness  to  her  room ;  and  the  last  time  Lutie 
had  come  storming  to  the  door  and  begged  to  be  let 
in  and  had  sat  on  the  bed  and  sobbed  and  hysterically 
declared  that  she  wasn't  going  to  stay  at  home  any 
longer  to  be  treated  so!  She  had  set  her  heart  oo 
getting  a  pair  of  white  canvas  shoes  — "  to  w-w-wear 
to  the  r-rally,"  Lutie  said  between  gulps  and  sniffs  — 
but  now  they  had  taken  the  money  "  off  of  her  "  and 
she  wished  she  was  dead  I  Eleanor  comforted  her  as 
well  as  she  could. 

"  You  might  wear  a  pair  of  mine,"  she  said ;  and  the 
difference  in  size  rendering  this  impracticable,  sug- 
gested that  Lutie's  old  ones  could  be  cleaned  up  and 
mended  "  so  as  to  do  for  just  once  more  anyway." 

"  No,  they  can't !     They're  all  busted  out,"  wailed 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  295 

the  victim  of  parental  tyranny.  '^  I  don't  care!  I'll 
show  him,  the  dirty  old  slob  I  He  can't  keep  on  tak- 
ing my  money  off  of  me  I  " 

'^  Xever  mind,  just  go  anyhow.  Your  feet  don't 
show ;  nobody  ever  sees  them  in  a  crowd,''  said  Elea- 
nor, employing  an  argument  eminently  ad  Morehead, 
as  she  thought ;  but  poor  Lutie  was  not  to  be  beguiled 
this  time. 

''  Oh,  my  Lord,  Mrs.  Loring,  you  know  you  wouldn't 
have  ijour  feet  not  looking  as  nice  as  the  rest  of  you, 
not  for  one  minute  I  You  wouldn't  be  caught  dead 
without  your  feet  looking  nice.  There  ain't  any  use 
your  talking  to  me  that  way  I  "  she  snapped  miserably. 
"  I'll  just  have  to  stay  home,  that's  all !  And  I 
w-wanted  to  go  —  I  w-wanted  to  go-o  I  " 

"  Oh,  now,  don't  cry  I  We'll  think  up  something,'^ 
said  Eleanor  soothingly  as  if  to  a  child.  Indeed,  she 
was  growing  accustomed  to  the  intrinsic  childishness 
of  the  average  adult  human  being,  as  exhibited  by 
Lutie's  class;  to  her  mind  it  was  gi-otesque,  it  was 
wearisome,  it  was  exasperating,  but  more  than  any- 
thing else,  it  was  pitiful.  "  Tell  me  about  the  rally. 
What  is  it  like?     What  do  you  do?''  she  asked. 

The  rally,  it  seemed,  was  primarily  a  sort  of 
political  hearth-  and  heart-warming  in  the  Thirteenth 
Ward  occurring  annually,  promoted  by  ex-Councilman 
John  Dalton  in  chief,  with  a  few  subordinate  local 
celebrities.  They  chartered  the  steamboat  Queen  City 
of  the  ^yest  and  took  the  crowd  to  Lowery's 
Beach  for  the  whole  day ;  there  was  a  barbecue  or  fish- 
fry — '^Only,  of  course  it  ain't  a  real  one  like  they 
used  to  have  in  old  times.  Them  days  they  say  every- 
body, the  whole  push,  you  know,  kids  and  old  people 
and   do2:s   and  cats   and   everything  else  kinda   sat 


296  THE  KUDDER 

around  and  all  ate  outa  one  big  disli,  or  something  — 
I  don't  know  Iioav  they  done  it,  but  it  musta  been 
fierce !  '^  Lutie  opined.  "  Of  course  they  wouldn't 
have  nothing  like  that  nowadays.  They  get  a  real 
swell  caterer,  and  have  tables  and  a  regular  bar  for 
the  men,  and  everything  swell.  It's  all  free,  you 
know.  All  the  attractions  at  the  Beach  are  open,  too ; 
you  don't  have  to  pay  one  cent  for  the  Shoot-the- 
Chutes,  or  the  Whirlpool,  or  Going-to-Heaven,  or  the 
Panama  Canal,  or  any  of  'em.  And  there's  a  danc- 
ing platform,  and  two  bands  so  they  can  change  off 
and  rest,  without  the  music  stopping.  You  do  have 
the  swellest  time.  And  they  always  have  a  speech 
by  some  real  swell  speaker  —  not  Dalton,  you  know, 
he  never  talks  —  but  some  big  man  like  Bryan  or 
Debs  or  somebody.  This  year  they're  going  to  have 
Chauncey  Devitt  — "  Her  features  puckered  together 
as  the  tears  started  again.  "  And  now  I  can't  go !  I 
do  think  it's  the  meanest,  dirtiest  thing  — !  " 

"  Never  mind !  Don't  give  it  up  yet.  We'll  fix  it 
somehow  — " 

"  Last  year  him  and  me  come  back  on  the  boat  to- 
gether. It  was  the  loveliest  moonlight,"  sighed  Lutie. 
"  Well,  I  ain't  going  one  step  without  I'm  dressed 
right.  I'm  not  going  to  have  people  ashamed  of  me 
looking  jai//^  she  announced  with  savage  determina- 
tion. 

Eleanor  had  a  shrewd  guess  at  who  w^as  meant  by 
"  people,"  having  been  an  unwilling  eavesdropper  at 
family  conferences  such  as  that  of  this  Saturday  even- 
ing when  the  name  of  Chauncey  Devitt  had  been  freely 
mentioned  in  various  delicate,  satirical  pleasantries 
addressed  to  Lutie.  Soon  after  her  arrival  on  Poplar 
Street,  she  found  that  the  tidy  place  across  the  way 


BKExVD  AND  CIRCUSES  297 

was  the  borne  of  the  elderly  Irishman  whom  she  re- 
called —  without,  however,  being  able  to  picture  a 
single  feature  of  his  face  —  in  his  attack  of  illness 
out  at  the  Elmwood  factory,  half  a  dozen  years  ago. 
Eleanor  felt  as  if  it  were  half  a  dozen  centuries!  A 
deal  of  water  had  gone  under  the  bridges  since  that 
day.  The  son  and  some  other  man  had  come  out  to 
the  house  to  thank  her,  she  remembered.  She  did  not 
take  much  interest  in  the  Devitts,  one  glance  at  their 
home  being  enough  to  assure  her  that  her  services 
would  never  be  needed  there.  Moreover,  Mrs.  De- 
vitt  was  very  ^^  stuck-up  "  and  "  kept  herself  to  her- 
self in  a  way  that  Eleanor  gathered  was  more  or 
less  offensive  to  Mrs.  Morehead  and  her  circle.  Some- 
times Eleanor  saw  her,  a  little,  wiry  black-haired 
Irishwoman,  looking  seventy,  and  probably  not  over 
fifty-five,  moving  about  her  domain  on  errands  of 
cleanliness  with  her  head  done  up  in  a  radiantly  white 
towel,  or  going  to  Mass  of  a  Sunday  morning  with  a 
black  silk  dress  and  a  nice  braided  cloth  cape,  and  a 
stout  umbrella  and  her  fine  gold  watch  and  chain  that 
Mike  gave  her  on  their  twenty-first  wedding  anniver- 
sary. Of  the  men  of  the  family  it  was  reported  that 
the  son,  the  well-known  labour  "  agitator,"  was  seldom 
at  home,  and  the  father  got  up  and  was  off  to  work 
so  early  in  the  mornings  —  even  at  his  age  —  and  re- 
turned so  late  in  the  evenings  that  there  was  not 
much  time  left  him  for  neighbourliness;  but  nobody 
had  any  fault  to  find  with  Mike  Devitt  on  that  score 
or  any  other.  He,  at  least,  among  the  Devitts,  was 
unanimously  liked;  and  they  were  sorry  to  see  that 
the  old  man  had  failed  some  here  lately,  the  gossips 
told  Eleanor,  wagging  their  heads ;  he  looked  broken ; 
one  or  two  hard  years  since  nineteen-seven  had  been 


298  THE  KUDDER 

almost  too  much  for  Mike;  he  had  trouble  sometimes 
with  his  men,  and  he  wasn't  as  well  able  to  handle 
them  in  a  strike  or  any  such  situation  as  he  had  been 
when  younger, 

Eleanor  listened  inattentively;  she  heard  so  much 
talk  —  rumours,  scandal,  "  secrets  "  by  the  ream,  by 
the  column,  by  the  square  yard!  But  one  day,  com- 
ing home,  she  was  halted  on  the  crossing  by  a  spread- 
ing lake  from  some  burst  water-main,  and  as  she  stood 
poised  on  a  paving  block,  with  her  skirts  drawn  into 
one  hand,  casting  about  for  the  best  place  to  plant 
her  next  step,  she  found  herself  in  company  with  a 
slender  young  man,  who,  catching  her  eye,  took  off  his 
hat  with  a  free  and  sweeping  gesture. 

"  Mrs.  Loring,''  said  he  in  an  uncommon  voice,  deep, 
mellow  and  ringing.  He  had  black  eyes,  fine,  strong 
features,  a  very  nobly  shaped  head  with  thick,  waving 
black  hair  swept  back  from  the  forehead  in  the  fashion 
to  be  seen  in  portraits  of  our  elder  statesmen.  Other- 
w^ise  his  toilette  was  that  of  any  well-dressed  man  to- 
day, in  a  quiet  taste;  nevertheless  he  looked  like 
Hamlet,  he  looked  like  Eomeo! 

Eleanor  saw  all  this  —  she  could  not  help  seeing, 
nobody  could  have  helped  seeing  —  in  the  moment 
that  she  faced  him,  ransacking  her  memory,  unable 
to  name  him,  and  a  little  embarrassed,  though  nowa- 
days many  people  whom  she  did  not  recognise  knew 
and  spoke  to  her;  but  surely  a  presence  so  striking, 
so  full  of  significance  and  force  as  this,  she  ought  to 
be  able  to  place,  she  thought  with  mortification,  and 
coloured  under  his  unwavering  gaze,  and  stammered 
some  sort  of  greeting.  "  I  was  just  wondering  how 
to  get  through  this  pond  without  wading,"  she  said 
inanely. 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  200 

"Permit  me!''  said  the  stranger.  For  a  startled 
instant,  Eleanor  thought  that  he  was  going  to  take 
off  his  coat  and  spread  it  down  for  her  to  tread  on  — 
another  Releigh!  It  would  not  have  been  at  all  out 
of  keeping  with  his  unconsciously  picturesque  figure 
and  movements.  But  he  merely  offered  his  hand  with 
a  sober  courtesy;  and,  thus  upheld,  a  hop,  stop  and 
jump  landed  her,  dry-footed  and  laughing,  on  the  side- 
walk. 

"  Thank  you  so  much ! '' 

Their  eyes  met,  and  Eleanor  coloured  again.  The 
young  man  gave  her  another  long,  unfathomable  look, 
and  bowed  and  walked  off ;  and  presently  afterwards, 
Eleanor  from  her  window,  saw  him  entering  with  his 
own  latch-key,  apparently,  the  house  across  the  street. 

"  Why,  that  is  who  he  is  I  The  son,  the  Devitt !  " 
she  exclaimed  inwardly.  "  He  knew  me ! ''  She  w^ent 
and  looked  at  herself  in  the  glass. 


CHAPTER  III 

ALL  this  while,  as  Eleanor  wrote  her  uncle,  her 
acquaintance  on  Poplar  Street  and  in  the 
.  neighbourhood  had  been  widening  from  daj 
to  day  —  she  hoped  her  capacity  for  being  useful  or 
for  exerting  some  sort  of  good  influence  had  kept 
pace.  It  was  uphill  work,  though;  much  more  up- 
hill, she  naively  confessed,  than  she  had  expected ;  she 
had  been  struck,  time  and  again,  Avith  the  singular 
instability  of  these  people;  you  could  never  be  sure  of 
having  definitely  accomplished  anything  with  them! 
''  Not  that  I  try  to  '  Christianise '  any  of  them,"  she 
told  him.  "  Fancy  me  leading  '  Junk  '  (for  instance) 
into  the  Episcopal  Church  fold !  I'm  not  good  enough 
myself,  and  I  don't  know  enough.  Besides,  I  am  in- 
clined to  follow  the  advice  of  one  of  the  Salvation 
Army  women  I  keep  meeting  wherever  I  go :  ^  Saj, 
girlie,  don't  you  ever  say  I  told  you,  but  you  want  to 
cut  out  the  come-to-Jesus-dear-sister  stuff,  and  get  'em 
to  scrub  the  floor  and  cook  up  some  kind  of  decent  eats 
for  the  man  and  the  kids.  If  they  would,  it  would 
help  to  stop  the  drunkenness  and  truancy  quicker'n  all 
the  Gospel  you  can  preach  from  now  till  Christmas  I ' 
There  are  moments,  however,  when  neither  method 
seems  to  me  conspicuously  successful.  These  More- 
head  people  where  I  live  are,  I  am  afraid,  too  settled 
in  their  habits  ever  to  learn  anything  different  — 
except  perhaps  Homer.  Mrs.  Tom  Morehead  some- 
times shows  a  flash  of  energy ;  she  seems  really  fond 

300 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  301 

of  her  baby,  worrying  over  it  fiercely  like  a  cat ;  and, 
also  like  a  cat,  without  being  capable  of  learning  any- 
thing beyond  the  merest  elementary  principles  about 
taking  care  of  it.  Her  husband  is  hopeless,  another 
edition  of  Morehead  pcre^  not  vicious  or  brutal,  just 
a  weak,  dull  creature.  He  used  to  work  for  Mr.  Lor- 
ing  once  as  an  ice-puller  —  don't  you  remember?  — 
but  lost  that  job  long  ago  as  he  always  has  every  job, 
through  drink  or  sheer  laziness.  This  spring  when 
he  got  out  of  work,  I  went  to  Mr.  Loring  and  got  him 
to  take  Tom  back  for  another  try ;  and  he  has  actually 
stayed  there  and  kept  straight  since  then,  owing  to 
constant  vigilance  and  '  going  after '  on  my  part.  I 
haven't  any  illusions  about  the  reform  being  perma- 
nent It  seems  as  if  you  couldn't  put  character  and 
morals  into  people  like  that ;  you  yourself  have  to  be 
character  and  morals  for  them.  .  .  .  We  have  a  celeb- 
rity ^in  our  midst,'  Mr.  T.  C.  De^itt,  the  labour 
leader;  his  family  live  across  the  street,  and  of  course 
everybody  around  here  knows  him.  They  all  talk  a 
good  deal  about  '  Tim '  or  '  Chaunce,'  some  of  them 
rather  slightingly,  by  the  way  of  '  showing  off '  how 
familiar  they  are  with  him,  I  suspect;  as  usual,  he  is 
not  unanimously  honoured  in  his  own  land.  He  looks 
very  earnest  and  interesting,  an  out-of-the-ordinary 
type;  I  should  like  to  meet  him  and  hear  him  talk 
about  those  things  that  we  all  ought  to  know  more 
about  —  I  mean  unions  and  wages  and  employers  and 
employed,  and  the  unemployed,  too,  poor  things. 
They  say  he  speaks  very  powerfully  and  convincingly 
—  on  the  workingman's  side,  of  course ;  he  comes  from 
that  class  —  makes  no  bones  about  saying  so  —  and 
that  must  help  him  to  understand  their  point  of  view, 
and  to  study  industrial  conditions  much  more  closely 


302  THE  RUDDER 

and  sjmpatheticallj  than  any  *  rank  outsider '  like 
me,  for  instance.  I  want  so  to  help  and  I  am  so  hor- 
ribly hampered  merely  by  being  who  I  am.  But  the 
more  I  see  of  this  pathetic  ignorance  and  suffering 
and  the  hideous  inequality  and  unfairness  of  circum- 
stances, the  more  I  feel  that  something  ought  to  be 
done.  .  .  .'' 

Cook  smiled  and  shook  his  head  over  that  last 
sentence.  ^^  ^  Something  ought  to  be  done!'  That's 
characteristic  of  all  these  warm-hearted  humanitar- 
ians. Nellie  finds  out  suddenly  that  everything  is  not 
apparently  all  for  the  best  in  this  best  of  all  possible 
worlds,  and  immediately  she  begins  that  age-old, 
touching,  impotent  outcry  that  something  ought  to  be 
done.  What  ^  something '  could  be  done  that  would 
transform  Tom  Morehead  into  an  upright,  industrious 
citizen?  Eleanor  knows  too  much  to  expect  any  such 
miracle;  but  she  doesn't  realise  that  for  all  this 
suffering  and  inequality  that  distress  her  so  to  be  abol- 
ished at  a  blow  by  ^  somebody  '  doing  ^  something ' 
would  be  just  as  miraculous.  She  doesn't  realise  that 
she  herself  and  her  fellow-workers  are  already  doing 
the  most  practical  ^  something '  that  can  be  done. 
And  Devitt!  Why,  I  remember  that  young  fellow; 
I  remember  thinking  he  gave  promise,"  said  Mr.  Cook, 
somewhat  complacently.  "  It  will  be  interesting  to 
hear  what  Nellie  gets  out  of  him."  But  oddly  enough, 
aside  from  a  passing  notice  that  they  had  met,  in  all 
her  letters,  Eleanor  did  not  mention  the  labour  leader 
again. 

As  it  happened  their  formal  meeting  did  not  take 
place  very  soon,  notwithstanding  the  intimate  nature 
of  Poplar  Street  society.  From  her  window  Eleanor 
saw  Mr.  Devitt  almost  every  day  going  down  to  his 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  303 

office  —  it  was  the  office  of  the  Federation  of  Team- 
sters, Liitie  told  her  —  like  any  other  man,  yet  most 
imlike  all  other  men  in  the  unaffected  grace  of  his 
bearing,  crowned  with  a  common  soft  hat  and  carry- 
ing a  cane  or  even  a  prosaic  umbrella  in  a  manner  to 
recall  irresistibly  the  plumes  and  rapier  of  romance. 
He  had  a  habit  —  or  presently  developed  it  —  of  paus- 
ing on  the  step  and  allowing  his  gaze  to  stray  over 
the  facade  of  the  house  opposite  in  an  absently  specu- 
lative style,  lingering  longest  on  the  two  windows  — 
with  clean  white  curtains  neatly  parted  and  tied  back, 
and  rows  of  geraniums  flourishing  vividly  in  trim  little 
pots  aligTied  on  the  sills  —  which  belonged  to  the 
lodger's  room.     Indeed,  they  differed  sufficiently  from 
the  other  windows  to  arrest  anybody's  attention,  even 
a  man's,  as  Eleanor  reminded  herself  with  a  laugh; 
nevertheless  she  drew  back  with  cheeks  suddenly  hot 
on  meeting  his  eyes  full  one  morning.     '^  What  made 
me  do  that?     How  perfectly  silly! ''  she  thought  the 
next  second,  annoyed  at  herself;  and  went  boldly  to 
the  window  again,  and  threw  it  open,  and  leaned  out 
over  the  flowers  with  her  little  watering-can  in  hand. 
Mr.  Devitt  was  still  there;  he  took  off  his  hat  with  his 
unconsciously  fine  gesture,  and  Eleanor  pleasantly 
recos-nised  the  salute  as  she  would  have  anybody's; 
and  there  this  unimportant  incident  ended. 

However,  it  occurred  again ;  and  now  and  then,  as 
was  most  natural,  they  came  face  to  face  on  the  street. 
Once,  Mr.  Devitt  was  in  company  with  a  big,  round- 
shouldered,  elderly  man  in  well-worn  clothing  with  a 
soiled  collar  and  tie  beneath  which  one  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  blue  cotton  shirt  like  a  day-labourer's; 
Eleanor  did  not  recollect  his  rough,  weather-beaten 
face,  but  she  divined  him  to  be  the  father.     And  once 


304  THE  KUDDER 

tlie  celebrity  had  for  companion  a  totally  different  per- 
son —  different  from  himself  and  different  from  Devitt 
the  elder  —  heavy-set  and  flashy  with  a  great  deal  of 
cigar  and  watch-chain,  and  great  hairy  hands  and  a  cer- 
tain kind  of  glance  which  the  young  woman,  who  was  by 
no  means  slow  of  observation,  had  by  this  time  learned 
to  interpret  pretty  accurately.  Chauncey  gave  her 
his  customary  long,  slow  look  about  which,  in  distinc- 
tion to  Mr.  John  Dalton's,  there  was  not  the  least  of- 
fence, but  Eleanor  hurried  past  this  time  with  the 
scantest  acknowledgment.  Inwardly  she  recoiled 
from  the  sight  of  him  in  such  an  association,  until 
with  a  certain  relief  it  occurred  to  her  that  after  all 
a  man  in  his  position  must  know  and  suffer  every- 
body, good,  bad,  indifferent;  it  was  unavoidable  in 
the  work  of  reform  and  regeneration  to  which  he  had 
dedicated  himself.  On  another  occasion  Mr.  Devitt 
was  carefully  convoying  his  mother  along;  she  saw 
him  speak  to  the  little  old  woman  who  thereupon  ad- 
dressed to  her  a  nervous  smile  and  a  bob  of  the  head 
and  whole  body  which  was  almost  a  curtsey.  Eleanor 
had  an  impulse  to  stop  and  speak,  but  some  stronger 
feeling,  she  did  not  know  what,  withheld  her.  Simul- 
taneously she  began  to  think  that  this  was  becoming 
ridiculous  —  this  solemn  mute  bowing  and  eyeing  of 
each  other  at  successive  encounters !  They  could  not 
keep  that  up  forever,  yet  they  must  inevitably  keep 
on  meeting.  In  common  civility,  in  common  sense, 
one  or  other  of  them  ought  to  break  the  ice,  make 
some  advance,  it  need  not  be  farther  than  a  remark 
about  the  weather ;  but  somehow  she  could  not  make 
up  her  mind  to  it,  and  neither,  apparently,  could  Mr. 
Devitt. 

In  the  meanwhile,  as  she  told  her  uncle,  she  heard 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  305 

talk  enoii<2:li  about  the  hero,  and  to  spare.  Liitie  filled 
her  ears  with  confidences,  to  Eleanor's  growing  irrita- 
tion. The  girl's  eternal  *^  I  says ''  and  "  he  says,'' 
her  open  infatuation  seemed  somehow  to  vulgarise 
him,  though  Eleanor  privately  refused  to  believe  a 
word  of  the  stuff.  It  was  impossible,  in  her  judg- 
ment, for  such  a  man  either  to  have  ever  been  in  love 
with  such  a  girl  as  Lutie  or  to  have  kept  up  the 
shabby  flirtation  all  these  years.  She  thought  it  not 
unlikely  that  a  good  many  other  women  had  run  after 
him,  having  witnessed  performances  of  that  nature 
even  among  women  of  her  own  class  who,  if  they  had 
no  more  sense  than  Lutie,  were  at  least  supposed  to 
have  been  trained  to  a  better  control  of  their  instincts. 
All  sisters  under  the  skin  I  And  men  being  likewise 
all  brothers,  Mr.  Devitt  could  not  be  blamed  if  h^  had 
met  some  of  them  half-way;  he  was  only  human  and 
masculine.  So  Eleanor  decided  with  the  ^\isdom  of 
her  sex.  But  in  Lutie's  case,  it  must  have  been  all  on 
the  girl's  side,  she  concluded  in  impatient  pity.  It 
was  true  that  Mrs.  Tom  Morehead,  gossiping  about 
him  in  a  strain  of  exaggerated  intimacy,  declared  that 
Chaunce  Devitt  had  at  one  time  "  acted  like  he  was 
dead  stuck  on  Lute,"  but  she  guessed  he VI  got  over  it, 
or  never  meant  anything  —  any  good  —  he  took  such 
good  care  to  keep  out  of  her  road  now,  and  it  was 
sickening  to  see  how  she  went  on  about  him  —  and 
so  forth  and  so  on,  all  of  which  Eleanor  took  with  a 
whole  handful  of  salt,  let  alone  a  gi-ain!  Lutie  and 
Mrs.  Tom  were  at  daggers  drawn  just  then.  Young 
Homer  expressed  a  contrary  opinion. 

"  Aw,  he  wasn't  ever  stuck  on  Lutie,  nor  any  other 
girl.  He's  stuck  on  himself,  that's  who  he's  stuck 
on !  "  said  Homer  coldlv. 


306  THE  RUDDER 

^^  You  don't  like  Mr.  Devitt?"  Eleanor  said. 

Homer  eyed  her.  "Well  —  now  —  he  ain't  ever 
done  nothing  to  me/'  he  rejoined,  diplomatically  evad- 
ing the  main  point;  much  experience  had  showed 
Homer  the  wisdom  of  the  middle-of-the-road  course. 
Still,  his  attitude  was  not  explicitly  approving;  nor, 
to  the  discerning  eye,  was  that  of  Mr.  Kendrick, 
though  he  too  maintained  a  strict  regard  for  neutral- 

ity. 

"Devitt?  Oh,  you  mean  T.  Chauncey?  Is  he  at 
home?  Yes,  that's  so,  I  remember  now,  he's  adver- 
tised to  make  an  address  at  Jack  Dalton's  picnic. 
The  authorities  must  be  breathing  a  good  deal  easier 
since  they  heard  what  he  was  here  for,"  was  Mr.  Ken- 
drick's  somewhat  obscure  conclusion. 

"  The  authoritiesf     Why?  " 

"  Well,  you  know,  Dal  ton  is  generally  supposed  to 
be  one  of  the  head  men  in  stirring  up  these  troubles 
between  the  union  workmen  and  the  contractors  or 
the  big  concerns  that  employ  them,  only  his  name 
doesn't  often  appear.  He  always  gets  somebody  like 
Devitt  to  do  the  heavy  talking ;  T.  Chauncey's  a  spell- 
binder, you  know  —  silver-tongued  orator,"  said  Mr. 
Kendrick  with  an  impartial  air.  "  So  wherever  Devitt 
goes  in  connection  with  Dalton,  it's  like  a  storm  signal. 
But  if  he's  just  here  to  speak  at  this  Thirteenth  Ward 
rally,  it  looks  as  if  they  didn't  mean  to  start  anything 
this  time." 

"  You  don't  care  anything  about  things  like  that. 
You're  not  interested  in  labour  questions,"  said 
Eleanor.  Mr.  Kendrick  glanced  at  her  ardent,  ac- 
cusing face,  and  said  no,  he  didn't  believe  he  was; 
he'd  always  been  pretty  busy. 

Eleanor  meant  to  go  to  the  rally,  in  the  spirit  of  ad- 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  307 

venture,  she  told  herself,  and  also,  as  she  would  have 
freely  admitted,  because  she  wanted  to  hear  Mr.  De- 
vitt;  she  wanted  to  be  informed,  to  broaden  her  out- 
look, at  the  same  time  that  she  was  trying  to  get 
nearer  to  these  people.  This  last  result  was  being 
rapidly  accomplished;  not  only  had  Poplar  Street 
taken  her  into  its  confidence,  but  her  acquaintance  ex- 
tended farther,  even  to  the  very  confines  of  the  Ward, 
as  she  discovered  one  day,  on  being  halted  and  warmly 
addressed  as  she  was  passing  Schlochtermaier's  by 
some  one  issuing  therefrom  with  a  brown  paper  par- 
cel smelling  of  fish. 

''  Mrs.  Loring !  Well,  my  goodness  I  "  exclaimed 
the  stranger,  figuratively  —  in  fact,  all  but  literally 
—  nailing  her  in  front  of  the  decorated  hams,  the 
dishpans  full  of  sauerkraut,  and  the  naked  poultry 
with  which  Schlochtermaier  tantalised  the  public 
from  his  show-window.  "I  heard  you  was  living- 
down  here.  It's  funny  we  ain't  ever  run  into  each 
other  before  this,  ain't  it?  Only  I'm  not  over  this 
way  so  often  —  just  to  see  Heinie  once  in  a  while." 
She  jerked  her  head  (which  was  marvellously  coiffed 
with  little  tight,  light  yellow  i3uffs  and  frizzes)  side- 
wise  towards  the  butcher's  shop.  "  Heinie  Schloch- 
termaier, I  mean  —  of  course  I  call  him  Heinie,  as 
long  as  he's  my  brother,  you  know.  Oh,  didn't  you 
know?  Why,  Mirey  yes,  Heinle's  my  brother!  Well, 
the  idea,  your  not  knowing  that!  Come  to  think  of 
it  though,  there  wouldn't  be  any  way  for  you  to  know, 
except  the  name,  and  w^e  might  not  be  the  only 
Schlochtermaier  family  on  top  of  the  ground  anyway. 
But  we're  the  only  ones  around  here,  I  guess." 

"  Why  no,  I  didn't  know.  Miss  Hilda,"  said  Eleanor, 
devoutly  thankful  that  the  other  had  identified  her- 


308  THE  RUDDER 

self.  Now,  though  she  had  visited  Mr.  Loring's  Elm- 
wood  factory  only  two  or  three  times,  she  recognised 
the  bookkeeper  with  her  flaxen  fuzz,  her  spectacles, 
her  little,  clean,  dried-out  face  and  figure.  "  I  didn't 
know  Mr.  Schlochtermaier  had  a  sister.'' 

"  Oh  my,  yes !  I  seen  you  didn't.  You  looked  so 
s'prised." 

"  Elmwood  is  a  good  way  from  here,  and  somehow 
I  never  connected  you  with  this  part  of  the  city." 

"  Sure,  you  wouldn't !  "  agreed  the  other,  beaming 
on  her  admiringly.  "  You  wouldn't  be  likely  to  hear 
anybody  talking  about  me  much,  and  of  course  I  hear 
about  you  lots!  Everybody  talks  about  you  —  that 
is  —  I  —  well,  I  don't  mean  —  I  mean  I  mean  —  uh 

—  er  — "  and  here  poor  Miss  Schlochtermaier  babbled 
off  in  red-faced  confusion,  ^^  mad  enough  to  bite  her 
tongue  out,"  so  she  afterwards  stated,  for  having  al- 
lowed it  to  run  into  that  awful,  ambiguous  speech. 

"  You  don't  tell  me  you've  always  lived  here?  Be- 
fore I  came?  And  all  this  time  since?  "  said  Eleanor 
quickly  in  a  humane  anxiety  to  help  her  cover  up  the 
blunder.  "  But  not  with  your  brother  surely,  or  I 
couldn't  have  helped  knowing." 

"  No,  I  —  he  —  well,  when  Heinie  he  got  married 

—  but  I  wasn't  at  home  for  a  good  while  before  that 
anyhow,  on  account  of  it  being  so  far  to  get  up  every 
morning  and  go  way  out  to  Elmwood  —  I'm  over  on 
Fifteenth  now,"  Miss  Schlochtermaier  stammered  un- 
intelligibly. But  in  another  second  or  two  she  re- 
covered, and  was  soon  talking  copiously  as  they 
walked  along  together.  "  You  see  it's  this  way. 
Heinie,  he's  always  lived  with  Mother  and  she  kep' 
the  house  of  course,  so  they  kinda  took  care  of  each 
other,  so  I  knew  they  was  all  right,  and  I  didn't  mind 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  309 

being  off  at  Elmwood  by  myself.  I  useta  get  dowu 
Sundays  and  afternoons  sometimes,  so  I  knew  they 
was  all  right,  and  Mother  she  didn't  need  me  around 
all  the  time,  and  Ileinie  he's  just  as  good  as  gold,  if 
he  is  my  own  brother,  I  don't  care  who  hears  me  say 
it!  But,  Mrs.  Loring,  you  know  how  men  are.  Time 
come  when  he  wanted  to  get  married,  and  that's  all 
right,  too;  a  man  he  should  get  married  while  he's 
young  already,"  said  Heinle's  sister,  relapsing  momen- 
tarily into  the  idiom  of  her  youth,  as  she  became  en- 
grossed in  the  narrative.  ^'  So  he  gets  married,  that's 
about  two  years  ago  now,  and  he  got  a  nice  girl,  too, 
real  settled  and  nothing  flighty  nor  stylish  about  her. 
But,  Mrs.  Loring,  you  know  how  it  is.  It  ain't  the 
same  for  Mother,  and  she's  getting  old  now  —  it  ain't 
the  same  like  having  your  own  house,  when  your  son 
gets  married  for  himself,  not  but  what  Katie  ain't 
nice  to  her,  but  you're  always  an  extra  person  around 
—  you  know  how  it  is?  " 

Eleanor  nodded. 

"  Yes,  that's  just  it !  "  said  the  other.  "  Without 
no  hard  feelings  either,  because  everybody  irants  to 
act  right.  But  I  seen  how  it  was  after  a  little  bit,  so 
I  fixed  it  up  for  Mother  to  come  and  us  live  together, 
just  her  and  me  our  own  selves,  you  know.  '  What's 
a  daughter  for,  if  she  don't  get  to  live  with  her  mother 
once?'  I  says  to  'em.  ^  Looks  like  there  ain't  any 
Mr.  Man  coming  along  to  take  care  of  me,'  I  says,  ^  so 
I  guess  it's  up  to  Mother ! '  I  just  joked  along  like 
that  to  keep  Heinie  and  Katie  from  their  feelings  hurt, 
you  know,  and  so's  Mother  wouldn't  get  to  worrying 
over  she  was  a  care  to  anybody  —  you  know  how  that 
is.     So  that  was  when  I  quit  Mr.  Loring.'' 

"  Oh,  you're  not  there  any  more?  " 


310  THE  EUDDER 

"  My  goodness,  no !  Not  for  two  years  —  didn't 
you  know?  Well,  that's  how  it  was.  I  didn't  get 
fired  either  —  you  needn't  to  think  that  for  one  min- 
ute !  I  ain't  the  kind  to  get  fired  off  of  no  job,"  said 
Miss  Schlochtermaier,  bristling  a  little.  "  I  been 
with  Loring's  twelve  years,  and  I'd  'a'  been  there  right 
now,  hadn't  been  for  this  thing.  Mother  she  couldn't 
go  way  out  there  to  Elm  wood  to  live,  off  from  her 
church  and  everybody  she  knows,  and  I  couldn't  stay 
in  town  and  w^ork  out  there  —  I  couldn't  have  stood 
that,  and  there'd  have  been  the  car-fare,  too.  So  w^e 
got  us  a  little  flat  on  Fifteenth  and  moved  in.  Mr. 
Loring  w^as  awfully  nice  about  me  leaving.  He'd 
have  changed  me  into  one  of  the  other  offices,  only 
there  ain't  any  of  'em  any  nearer  than  Elmwood 
scarcely,  so  there  wouldn't  have  been  any  good.  They 
don't  ever  seem  to  have  ice-factories  right  in  town,  you 
know,  they're  always  off  outside  somewhere.  Yes, 
we're  good  friends.  He  give  me  twenty-five  dollars  — 
outside  my  regular  money,  you  know  —  when  I  went 
aw^ay,  and  says  if  I  ever  wanted  help  or  a  recommenda- 
tion or  anything  to  come  to  him.  But  I  don't  guess 
I'll  ever  need  to;  when  I  get  on  a  job,  I  sticl'/'  said 
the  little  old  maiden  proudly.  "  I  went  with  Mr.  De- 
vitt  week  after  I  quit  Loring's.  I  didn't  have  a  speck 
of  trouble  getting  something  to  do." 

"With  Mr.  Devitt?"  said  Eleanor,  alert  at  once; 
"  that  must  be  very  interesting.  I  suppose  you  go  to 
the  —  the  meetings  —  when  he  makes  speeches? 
What  is  he  like?" 

''Eeyf  uttered  Miss  Schlochtermaier,  stopping 
dead,  staring,  vacant  of  face.  '^  Speeches? ''  she 
echoed.  ''Oh!''  She  looked  relieved.  ''You're 
thinking  about  Timmie  —  Chauncey.     Law  I     I  didn't 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  311 

mean  Jtun!  I  meant  Mr.  Devitt  —  the  old  man  — 
Mike,  jou  know  —  the  Shamrock  Construction  Com- 
pany, jou  know.  They  do  roads  and  paving  contracts 
and  those  kind  of  things,  don't  jou  know?  The  of- 
fice is  in  the  Kremlin  Building.  Thafs  where  I  am. 
My  I  "  She  set  forward  again.  "  '  Speeches  I '  I 
couldn't  think  what  you  meant  I  Simply  couldn't 
think  what  you  meant.  Looked  like  one  of  us  was 
going  crazy!  Mr.  Devitt  would  about  as  soon  jump 
off  the  Suspension  Bridge  as  make  a  speech.  That's 
his  son  you're  thinking  about." 

Eleanor  coloured  a  little,  oddlv  discomfited  to  re- 
alise  that  she  had  forgotten  there  was  such  a  person 
in  existence  as  the  elder  Devitt.  Yet  after  all,  was 
not  the  younger  the  only  real  person  in  the  family? 
^'  I  thought  perhaps  you  were  Mr.  Chauncey  Devitt's 
secretary  —  er  —  stenographer,  you  know." 

^^  Oh  my,  no  I  I  don't  believe  he'd  have  much  use 
for  a  stenographer.  He  hasn't  got  any  office  even," 
Miss  Schlochtermaier  said  with  a  laugh.  "  The 
Teamsters'  What-you-may-call-'ems  have  their  head- 
quarters in  our  building,  two-three  floors  over  us. 
But  it  ain't  an  office.  It's  just  where  they  meet. 
Dalton  runs  'em,  you  know  —  I  giiess  you've  heard 
about  Mm  —  and  Chauncey's  in  with  him,  so  that's 
what  must  have  give  you  the  idea  that  it  was  his 
office.  But  there  ain't  any  work  going  on  regular  — 
what  I'd  call  work,  that  is.  They  have  a  girl  about 
three  mornings  in  the  week  to  write  letters  or  send  out 
notices,  I  guess ;  but  I  wouldn't  take  no  little  bit  of  a 
jyb  like  that.  I  wouldn't  work  for  Dalton  anyhow, 
not  if  he  gave  me  the  whole  shebang,''  she  added 
gratuitously. 

The  speech  and  tone  revealed  a  sentiment  regarding 


312  THE  RUDDER 

Mr.  Dalton  common  to  all  the  respectable  people  Elea- 
nor had  met;  unanimously  they  coupled  it  with  an 
inexplicable  toleration.  And  Chauncey  Devitt  was 
even  "  in  with  him  " —  distasteful  news !  But  he  had 
an  excuse,  which  she  promptly  remembered,  and  elab- 
orated. 

'^  There  must  be  somebody  like  that  Mr.  Dalton  to 
handle  the  men  —  that's  what  you  mean  when  you 
say  he  runs  them,  isn't  it?"  she  said.  "I  suppose 
they're  a  very  rough  lot,  and  he's  the  only  kind  of  man 
that  can  do  much  with  them." 

"  Maybe  so  —  can't  prove  it  by  me.  I  don't  want 
to  know  anything  more  about  'em  than  I  do  already. 
Enough's  a  plenty,"  returned  the  other,  assuming  a 
kind  of  acid  indifference.  Her  manner  changed  as 
she  added  in  a  moment,  halting :  ''  This  here's  where 
we  live  at,  Mrs.  Loring.  You  gotta  go  to  the  side  en- 
tance  behind  the  grocery,  but  the  rooms  is  real  nice 
w^hen  you  get  upstairs  —  running  water  and  gas  and 
everything.  I  —  I'd  like  ever  so  much  for  you  to 
come  in  and  see  Mother  some  time  —  right  now,  if 
you  would?''  she  said  shyly.  "  Mother'd  be  tickled 
to  death,  and  I'll  let  her  fix  up  some  coffee  and  cakes 
—  that's  real  Dutch,  you  know,  like  they  do  in  the 
old  country  —  I've  heard  her  talk  about  it  —  when 
they  got  callers.     She'd  love  it." 

"  So  would  I !  "  said  Eleanor  cordially ;  seldom  in- 
deed did  she  come  upon  people  and  homes  such  as 
these  —  it  was  an  oasis  in  the  desert,  she  thought, 
touched  and  amused,  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a 
weary  land !  The  tiny  rooms  were  as  tidy  and  smil- 
ing as  she  had  expected  with  a  stand  of  green  plants, 
a  canary  in  a  shining  cage;  the  clean  old  German 
woman  came  and  welcomed  her  delightedly;  and  di- 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  313 

rectly  the  kettle  was  on  the  stove  —  the  speckless, 
polished  stove  I  —  and  hosi^itable  odours  spread 
abroad. 

'^  I  always  let  her  do  it,  if  she  can,"  Miss  Schloch- 
termaier  whispered  with  a  confidential  wink  as  her 
mother  moved  to  and  fro  ecstatically  busy.  "  I  like 
her  to  think  she  can  do  things.  It  makes  her  hap- 
pier. And  there  ain't  so  much  in  it  for  old  people, 
Mrs.  Loring.  You  know  how  that  is.  Just  livinfj 
ain't  any  fun.  It's  kinda  pitiful  how  easy  I  can  fool 
her.  I  get  up  every  morning  before  she's  awake  and 
get  breakfast  going  and  do  up  the  house,  and  maybe 
iron  out  a  shirtwaist  or  some  kind  of  work  like  that 
before  I  go  down  to  the  office  —  I  do  my  marketing  on 
the  way.  And  same  way  get  dinner  when  I  come 
home  evenings.  Sundays  I  got  plenty  of  time  to  do 
all  my  mending  and  clean  around  and  bake  a  cake  or 
something  —  it  gives  you  such  a  kinda  nice  home-y 
feeling,  ain't  it?  I  guess  you  think  I  ain't  very  re- 
ligious, but  Mother  she  goes  to  church  for  both  of  us. 
And  you  know  all  the  time  she  never  once  gets  on'^ 
I  jolly  her  along  and  tell  her  she's  doing  the  house- 
keeping, and  she  thinks  she's  the  whole  works  I " 

"  I  think  you  work  pretty  hard,"  Eleanor  said. 

"  Oh  my,  no  I  Mr.  Devitt's  just  as  easy  as  easy ! 
And  there  ain't  so  much  for  the  office-girl  to  do  in  his 
kind  of  business  anyhow.  I  don't  ever  get  there  till 
seven  in  the  morning  and  sometimes  I'm  out  by  five. 
I  never  was  in  a  place  where  I  had  it  so  easy,"  de- 
clared Miss  Schlochtermaier  vigorously,  quite  mistak- 
ing the  other's  meaning. 


CHAPTER  IV 

TCHAUNCEY  DEVITT,  the  labour  "agi- 
tator," was,  in  fact,  on  that  day  when  he 
fell  in  with  Mrs.  Amzi  Loring,  just  re- 
turning home  from  one  of  his  many  errands  of  agi- 
tating —  this  time  the  United  Culvert  and  Bridge 
Workers  in  a  neighbouring  State,  whom  he  had  stirred 
up  to  demand  their  rights  as  regarded  more  pay  and 
shorter  hours,  in  several  outbursts  of  most  impas- 
sioned and  resounding  oratory.  The  result  was  a  sig- 
nal victory  for  organised  labour;  the  culvert  and 
bridge  workers  struck  as  one  man;  the  construction 
companies  planted  guards  and  imported  outside  help ; 
the  strikers,  on  their  part,  brought  in  arms,  ammuni- 
tion and  dynamite  which,  in  accordance  doubtless 
with  their  published  declaration  of  a  desire  to  keep 
the  peace,  they  prudently  concealed  in  the  cellar  of 
an  abandoned  warehouse,  where  it  was  presently  dis- 
covered and  despotically  confiscated  by  the  police. 
Fortunately  for  the  cause,  however,  this  did  not  hap- 
pen until  after  the  strike-breakers  and  their  guards 
had  been  successfully  mobbed,  one  man  killed  and  a 
number  severely  injured;  a  private  citizen  who  had 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  bridges  or  culverts,  be- 
ing merely  floorwalker  in  a  department-store,  was 
shot  through  the  groin  and  crippled  for  life;  some 
altruistic  culvert  and  bridge  workers  blew  up  a  par- 
tially completed  concrete  viaduct,  and  set  fire  to  the 
construction  company's  buildings  near  by,  but  with- 

314 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  315 

out  making  a  total  wreck  of  either ;  there  was  talk  of 
calling  out  the  militia,  a  measure  which,  however,  the 
governor  refused  to  take,  his  enemies  basely  insinuat- 
ing that  he  was  "  after  the  labour  vote  "  to  re-elect 
him ;  and  at  the  end  of  three  weeks  of  disorder  during 
which  each  side  pointed  to  the  others  activities  as 
"  outrages  ' ^  matters  were  adjusted  by  a  compromise. 
The  men  went  back  to  work  at  an  advance  of  three 
and  a  half  cents  an  hour  instead  of  five,  and  the  pub- 
lic, which  had  been  naturally  the  heaviest  sufferer, 
made  ready  to  live  happily  ever  after  —  or  until  the 
next  time ! 

"  Sure,  three  cents  and  a  half  more  ain't  much  to 
give  them  poor  boys.  They  might  as  well  have  done 
it  first  as  last,''  Mrs.  Devitt  said  warmly.  ^'  'Twould 
have  spared  a  lot  of  trouble.'' 

"  Xo,  it's  not  much.  But  it  onlv  took  the  last  straw 
to  break  the  camel's  back,  ye  know,"  said  her  husband 
with  a  kind  of  heavy  effort  at  jocularity.  ^^  If  they 
stick  me  the  same,  ve'll  have  to  go  without  vour  new 
gas-range  this  winter,  Xorah.  At  least,  I  expect  ye'd 
rather  do  that  than  have  them  bouncing  bricks  off  my 
head,  or  than  to  see  me  brung  home  on  a  shutter, 
forbye." 

^^Mike!  Ye  don't  say —  !  But  your  men  would 
never  strike  on  ye,  though  I  "  cried  out  Mrs.  Devitt. 
"Annyways  they  wouldn't  do  tJiatI  Mishandle  ye 
that  have  been  so  kind  to  um  I  " 

"  Wouldn't  they?  Ye  don't  know  what  men'll  do. 
Ko  man  knows  w^hat  his  own  brother'll  do,"  said 
Michael  gloomily.  He  pushed  away  the  dishes  in 
front  of  him  which  indeed  he  had  scarcely  tasted,  and 
began  to  stuff  the  tobacco  into  his  short  pipe  with  a 
hand  that  was  not  so  firm  as  it  had  once  been.     The 


316  THE  RUDDER 

neighbours  were  right ;  Mike  Devitt  was  not  a  young 
man  any  more;  his  face  sagged  in  tired  lines;  his 
little  blue  eyes  had  lost  their  fearless  and  cheerful 
outlook ;  they  seemed  to  be  forever  on  the  watch,  still 
steady,  still  open,  but  misted  by  an  eternal  anxiety. 
Norah  looked  at  him  in  uneasiness  that  was  half  vexa- 
tion ;  what  ailed  the  man?  He  was  having  another  of 
his  despondent  spells  was  her  conclusion,  and  now  he 
w^ould  sit  around  the  house  mum  and  glum  for  days, 
going  out  and  coming  in  without  a  word  even  to  her, 
except  in  gruff  denial  that  anything  was  the  matter 
with  him.  After  a  while  he  would  get  over  it,  and  act 
more  like  his  old,  even-tempered  self,  joking  and  teas- 
ing her;  but  these  black  moods  were  growing  on  him 
—  there  was  no  getting  around  it,  they  were  growing 
on  him!  The  wife  wondered  with  a  dart  of  terror 
whether  he  had  been  threatened,  it  might  even  be  at- 
tacked by  some  worker  in  his  "  gangs  '' ;  he  would  not 
have  told  her;  he  never  told  her  anything.  She  had 
an  instant  vision  of  a  cluster  of  hulking  desperadoes 
lying  in  wait  at  some  dark  corner,  with  stones,  pick- 
axes, revolvers  —  of  Mike's  senseless  and  broken  body 
huddled  in  the  gutter,  thrust  down  a  sewer!  Was 
that  what  was  on  his  mind? 

"Mother  o'  God,  Mike  — !"  she  began,  quavering; 
then  a  saner  second  thought  reassured  her.  "  But 
Timmie  wouldn't  let  ye  be  hurt,"  she  said  gladly.' 
"  Nor  John  Dalton.  The  men  would  mind  tJiem. 
'Tis  safe  and  sound  ye  are,  and  no  need  to  be  afraid 
of  annybody,  even  if  they'd  want  to  do  you  that  mean.'^ 

"Afraid,  is  it?  Me  afraid?  What  kind  of  dam 
fool  talk  is  that?  "  shouted  Mike,  turning  a  face  of 
sudden  fury  towards  her;  he  struck  his  fist  on  the 
table  with  another  oath,   and  broke  a  saucer,  the 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  317 

pieces  flying  hither  and  yon.  The  unaccustomed  do- 
mestic clatter,  and  his  wife's  appalled  eyes  calmed  him 
like  a  spell.  ^'  There  now,  look  what  I  done  I  If 
that  wasn't  the  clumsy  trick!"  he  ejaculated  with 
another  unconvincing  attempt  at  lightness.  "  Tst, 
tst !  Ain't  that  too  bad,  the  saucer's  broke  entirely ! 
Never  mind,  Norah,  go  get  yourself  another  —  get  the 
whole  dozen,  if  ye  can't  find  the  mate  to  this  one. 
Never  mind  —  I  —  I  was  just  in  fun,  ye  know.  I 
didn't  mean  to  be  rough." 

^'  Ye  never  swore  at  me  before/'  said  poor  Norah 
in  tears.  "What's  come  over  ye  to  call  that  fun? 
Ye  scared  me." 

"  Sure,  I  didn't  mean  it,  I  didn't  mean  it,  Norah 
darlint !  I'm  that  sorry  and  ashamed !  But  ye  know 
I'm  always  flaring  out  that  way,  when  I  get  my  Irish 
up,  as  folks  do  be  saying,"  her  husband  said  with 
caresses.  But  he  left  her  only  half  comforted.  For 
it  was  not  true  that  he  was  given  to  outbursts  of  an- 
ger ;  never  before  in  their  life  together  had  he  shown 
such  want  of  self-control,  and  the  knowledge  lay 
heavy  on  Norah's  heart. 

Not  for  any  length  of  time,  though;  her  own 
"  Irish  "  was  far  too  mercurial  a  quality  to  leave  her 
long  in  the  depths  —  or  on  the  heights  either,  for  that 
matter.  And  now  Timmie  —  that  is,  Chauncey  — 
was  at  home,  and  it  would  never  do  to  shadow  his  all- 
too-short  stay  with  her  worry  over  his  father's  wor- 
ries. To  be  sure  Tim  might  not  notice ;  it  was  scant 
time  he  had  for  her,  the  mother  thought  with  a  sigh 
which  she  instantly  stifled,  as  if  her  longing  were 
somehow  treasonable.  Nowadays  Norah's  worship  of 
and  pride  in  her  son  were  not  without  a  touch  of  fear ; 
there  were  times  when  he  seemed  so  lofty,  so  distant ; 


318  THE  RUDDER 

he  so  plainly  belonged  to  a  world  dazzlinglj  greater 
than  hers,  greater  even  than  his  father's.  He  was 
always  very  kind  and  gracious  to  her,  let  her  wait  on 
him  to  her  heart's  content,  and  when  she  spoke,  lis- 
tened with  patience;  but  when  he  spoke  himself,  it 
w^as  of  things  she  could  not  understand,  of  people  as 
aloof  as  the  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  whom  Norah 
had  once  seen  riding  grandly  in  a  carriage  with  his 
lady  by  his  side.  When  Tim  was  a  little  fellow,  she 
used  to  make  up  a  story  for  him  out  of  that  magnifi- 
cent episode ;  she  would  not  venture  on  such  idle  talk 
now.  Tim  was  hand  in  glove  with  potentates  so  much 
higher  up  that  he  wouldn't  give  a  snap  of  his  finger 
for  all  the  Lord  Lieutenants  in  Christendom.  Truly 
she  had  made  a  gentleman  of  him  with  a  vengeance; 
it  frightened  his  mother  as  much  as  it  pleased  her. 

Chauncey,  for  his  part,  took  the  credit  of  the 
achievement  wholly  to  himself.  It  was  at  about  this 
time  that,  in  his  public  utterances  —  including  inter- 
views with  reporters  —  he  introduced  those  veiled  and 
casual  references  to  the  difficulties,  disadvantages  and 
bitter  trials  of  a  self-made  man's  career  which  display, 
as  has  been  pointed  out,  a  knowledge  only  to  be  gained 
by  experience.  The  revelation  strengthened  his  cor- 
dial understanding  with  what  he  was  wont  to  call  on 
the  platform  —  with  a  fine  originality  —  the  Forces 
of  Labour;  though  his  struggles  had  brought  him  out 
from  their  ranks,  he  was  still  with  them,  still  of  them ; 
with  the  enslaved  against  the  enslavers ;  with  the  chat- 
tels against  the  owners;  with  the  bossed  against  the 
bosses!  He  had  declared  and  defined  his  position  a 
hundred  times  in  these  ringing  periods.  True, 
Chauncey's  own  father  was  one  of  the  above  enslavers, 
owners,  bosses ;  true,  Chauncey  spent  Michael  Devitt's 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  310 

money  freely,  and  had  never  done  a  stroke  of  work 
to  help  earn  it;  but  these  facts  were  not  generally 
known,  and  the  young  man  himself  was  not  aware  of 
any  inconsistency  of  attitude ;  he  found  it  no  trouble 
to  run  with  tlie  hare  and  hunt  with  the  hounds,  al- 
though that  curious  athletic  feat  might  embarrass 
some  persons. 

It  is  to  be  remarked  that  at  twenty-seven  or  -eight 
years  of  age,  Mr.  Chauncey  was  a  good  deal  more 
sophisticated  than  when  we  first  beheld  him  deliver- 
ing the  valedictory  at  Cambridge  College,  and  assum- 
ing a  limp  with  the  idea  of  making  his  presence  more 
impressive.  That  boyish  absurdity  would  be  unthink- 
able to  him  now;  and  besides,  if  he  needed  anything 
of  the  sort,  Chauncey  probably  knew  a  trick  worth 
two  of  that.  Maybe  he  had  learned  by  observation, 
maybe  Jack  Dalton,  that  man  of  many  councils,  had 
taught  him.  But  the  truth  is  that  Chauncey's  en- 
dowment of  voice  and  manner  and  appearance  was 
such  as  to  render  him  independent  of  tricks;  audi- 
ences pronounced  him  "  magnetic,''  sat  rapt,  and  were 
ready  to  be  carried  off  their  feet,  before  he  uttered  a 
word.  Already  he  had  a  vast  acquaintance,  a  vast 
following  of  admirers.  He  knew  all  the  heads  of  all 
the  Labour  organisations  in  the  country,  incidentally 
to  his  profession,  of  course ;  but  he  knew  many  heads 
of  other  organisations,  too,  presidents  of  railroads, 
owners  of  mines  and  manufacturing  enterprises,  no- 
torious ''  exploiters  of  Labour  ■ ' ;  he  had  sat  at  table 
with  bought  henchmen  of  the  Trusts  —  that  is  to  say, 
w^ith  Supreme  Court  judges  and  corporation  lawyers ; 
he  had  shaken  hands  with  a  candidate  for  the  Presi- 
dency of  the  United  States,  had  spoken  from  a  Cha- 
tauquan  rostrum  alongside  an  ex-candidate.     No  won- 


320  THE  RUDDER 

der  his  mother  approached  him,  metaphorically  on 
bended  knees,  no  wonder  his  father  sat  silent  in  his 
presence,  eyeing  him  almost  as  if  he  were  a  stranger ; 
on  the  contrary,  the  wonder  was,  as  Norah  told  her 
Michael  in  proud  and  tender  awe,  that  Chauncey 
should  come  back  to  their  little  home,  their  little  waj^s 
at  all. 

^'  And  sure  ye  might  act  more  proud  over  him. 
'T wouldn't  spoil  the  boy  if  ye  was  to  let  him  know 
that  his  father  thinks  well  of  him,''  she  said  with  re- 
proach. 

"  Go  on,  Norah,  woman,  I  can't  praise  him  to  his 
face.  I'd  feel  a  fool ! "  said  Mike  good-humouredly. 
^*  It's  not  a  man's  way  with  his  son." 

"  Well,  ye're  able  enough  when  it  comes  to  telling 
your  hands  that  they  done  a  good  job  on  the  cement 
walk  or  the  street-crossing  or  whatever,"  cried  out  his 
wife.  "  Ye've  plenty  of  good  words  for  them,  and  not 
one  for  your  own  boy !  I  suppose  it  would  have  been 
different  if  ye'd  had  him  with  you  in  the  business. 
Then  ye  might  have  praised  him  up  once  in  a  while."* 

"  It  ivould  have  been  different,  Norah,"  her  hus- 
band assented  with  a  slight  sigh.  "  Timmie  would 
have  known  me  and  the  work  better,  for  one  thing. 
As  it  is  he  don't  know  the  first  thing  about  either. 
It's  grand  to  see  him  where  he  is,  so  thick  with  the 
great  folks,  with  his  fine  education  as  good  as  any  of 
'em,  and  the  papers  coming  out  with  their :  ^  T. 
Chauncey  Devitt  was  seen  at  his  hotel  and  states,' 
or :  ^  Devitt  denies '  so-and-so,  and  all  the  rest  of  it. 
Only  —  There's  things  I  don't  like  about  it.  I  some- 
times wish —  Sure,  it's  a  queer  sort  of  muddled 
world  we've  got  to  live  in !  "  he  ended  philosophically, 
and  cheerfully  enough,  as  Norah  was  relieved  to  note. 


% 

BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  321 

Before  this  last  home-coming  Chauncey  had  indeed 
exhibited  signs  of  distaste  for  Poplar  Street,  even 
suggesting  an  apartment  in  one  of  the  hill-top  build- 
ings, with  talk  of  a  servant  and  boarding  at  the  cafe, 
which  caused  his  mother  much  frightened  and  un- 
happy speculation.  "What  would  I  be  doing  with 
a  hired  girl?  I  couldn't  sit  vdth  my  hands  folded 
and  watch  her  work;  she'd  drive  me  wild  inside  a 
week.  A  kaffay,  is  it?  Sure,  I  wouldn't  want  to  eat 
with  a  lot  of  people  watching  me!  And,  dearie, 
'twould  take  a  mint  of  money,  more  than  we've  any 
business  to  spend,"  she  argued  timidly.  During  his 
absence  she  fortified  herself  with  fresh  objections ;  but 
lo  and  behold,  '^  Dearie  "  appeared  to  have  forgotten 
all  about  his  surburban  apartment-house  aspirations  I 
He  looked  annoyed  when  Norah  at  length  tremulously 
reopened  the  subject,  remarked  that  he  was  perfectly 
comfortable  in  their  present  home,  pointed  out  that 
she  would  dislike  the  idleness  and  want  of  privacy 
consequent  on  such  a  change,  and  wound  up  with  a 
severe  lecture  on  the  high  cost  of  living !  Never  was 
there  a  more  complete  f ace-abotit ;  but  his  mother  was 
too  overjoyed  to  remind  him  of  his  former  attitude. 

Poor  Norah  Devitt  would  scarcely  have  rested  so 
easy  if  she  could  have  known  that  her  son,  for  all  this 
display  of  prudence,  was  not  thinking  of  her  or  his 
father  or  their  petty  affairs,  but  of  a  pair  of  bril- 
liant eyes,  a  head  of  rich  black  hair,  a  tall  and  lithe 
figure  enticingly  curved  and  tapered,  a  fine,  slender 
hand  just  touching  his.  He  was  thinking  and  dream- 
ing of  young  Mrs.  Amzi  Loring,  in  short,  and  while 
she  remained  across  the  street,  oxen  and  wain-ropes 
couldn't  have  dragged  T.  Chauncey  away.  In  the 
half-dozen  years  since  he  had  seen  her,  Mr.  Devitt 


322  THE  KUDDER 

had  not  "  guarded  her  image  in  his  heart,"  as  he  fer- 
vently told  himself  —  not  quite!  One  may  suppose 
that  the  gentleman  had  had  some  amorous  experi- 
ences; but  those  were  all  forgotten  now.  He  had,  it 
must  be  admitted,  a  pretty  good  gift  at  forgetting. 
Also  let  us  admit  that  he  did  not  lack  taste;  he  was 
right  when  he  swore  inwardly  that  he  had  never  met 
any  woman  to  compare  with  her.  Her  status  as  a 
wife  living  apart  from  her  husband,  which  seemed  to 
his  mother  questionable,  not  to  say  scandalous,  was 
an  added  attraction  in  Chauncey's  eyes;  but  in  spite 
of  it,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  house  wherein  the 
goddess  lived,  the  very  windows  of  her  bedroom  faced 
his  own  not  fifty  feet  away,  in  spite  even  of  knowing 
that  she  knew  him,  in  spite  of  passing  her  on  the 
street  every  day,  he  did  not  dare  to  speak  to  her  after 
that  first  time.  Her  glance  set  his  blood  on  fire 
though  he  could  read  in  it  at  most  only  a  grave  in- 
terest ;  that  was  what  baffled  him,  put  him  off,  tied  his 
tongue.  Yet  for  her  to  show  that  much  was  some- 
thing ;  maybe  —  roseate  fancy !  —  maybe  she  would 
not  allow  those  beautiful  eyes  to  express  more!  In 
her  Yere  de  Yere  caste  —  which  Chauncey  knew  as 
the  "  smart  set  " —  he  suspected  that  women  made  a 
point  of  not  wearing  any  organ  so  intimate  as  their 
hearts  on  their  sleeves.  True,  he  was  familiar  with 
the  manners  of  the  ''  smart  set "  only  as  depicted  on 
the  stage  and  in  novels;  but  there  was  romance  in 
that  position  too.  A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that  —  par- 
ticularly a  self-made  man.  He  rehearsed  a  hundred 
scenes  in  which  alternately  she  scorned  him  and  he 
scorned  her,  both  of  them  meanwhile  suffering  the 
deadliest  pangs  of  unrequited  passion ;  not  to  mention 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  323 

a  hundred  other  scenes  wherein  —  dreadful  to  hint ! 
—  quite  the  reverse  took  place. 

Etcetera,  etcetera !  He  said  to  himself  that  he  was 
desperately  in  love;  and  perhaps  he  was.  His  be- 
haviour differed  nowise  from  that  of  any  other  young 
man  under  the  same  influence,  except  that  Chauncey 
did  not  go  mooning  about,  neglecting  his  work.  He 
had  no  work  to  neglect!  He  saw^  Mr.  Dalton  every 
day  but  at  the  moment  that  gentleman  required  noth- 
ing of  him.  The  association  with  Dalton  may  have 
lost  some  of  its  savour  for  him  by  this  date;  once, 
that  time  when,  walking  together,  they  passed  Elea- 
nor, Chauncey  for  all  his  accelerated  pulses,  felt  that 
he  would  as  lief  have  not  seen  her,  have  gone  himself 
unseen.  His  patron's  eye  followed  her  with  an  ex- 
pression for  which  the  young  man  could  joyfully  have 
throttled  him. 

"Some  filly  that!"  was  Mr.  Dalton's  comment. 
"Who  is  she,' Tim?" 

Chauncey  told  him  frigidly. 

"  Mrs.  Loring?  Why,  she  ain't  such  a  filly  after 
all !  "  said  Dalton,  still  elegantly  figurative.  "  I  re- 
member her  now.  She's  Butch  Loring's  wife  —  di- 
vorced wife,  that  is." 

"  They  aren't  divorced.  They  separated,  that's  all. 
She  couldn't  live  with  that  fellow." 

Dalton  glanced  at  him.  "Just  separated?  Don't 
he  pay  her  anything?  " 

"  No ! "  said  Chauncey  fiercely.  He  really  knew 
nothing  about  it,  but  much  preferred  to  think  of  Elea- 
nor as  un-alimonied. 

"  Well,  if  he's  the  kind  of  man  she  can't  live  with, 
I  don't  see  why  she  don't  get  a  divorce  and  stick  him 


324  THE  RUDDER 

for  so  much  a  month,"  said  Mr.  Dalton,  who  was  noth- 
ing if  not  practical.  ''  Butch  can  afford  it.  He's 
taking  down  five  or  six  thousand  with  the  Black  Sox.'' 
Dalton  glanced  at  his  companion  again,  and  pro- 
ceeded casually :  "  I  guess  he's  worth  all  of  that, 
too.  He's  a  good  ball-player.  I  never  saw  a  man 
as  big  as  he  is  handle  himself  so  well  —  quick  as 
lightning !  " 

'^  I  know  all  about  him.  I  went  to  college  with 
him,"  said  Chauncey,  dissembling  his  rage  as  he  im- 
agined successfully.  He  had  not  thought  of  being 
jealous  before,  but  now  the  idea  of  Amzi  Two  as 
Eleanor's  husband  devastated  him.  "  He  hasn't  any 
mentality !     Never  did  have  any !  " 

Dalton  put  out  a  hand  and  solicitously  tickled  his 
proteges  jaw.  "Mentality  —  ouclil '^  he  remarked 
facetiously.  "  Let's  see !  I  guess  you  mean  horse- 
sense.  Maybe  not,  but  Butch's  a  whaling  good  ball- 
player just  the  same.  Whatever  little  '  mentality  ' 
he's  got  he  keeps  it  on  the  job ;  and  that  helps  a  man  a 
lot."  And  here  Mr.  Dalton,  reading  the  other's  mind 
with  that  easy  penetration  which  so  often  seemed  to 
Chauncey  little  short  of  diabolical,  gave  another  quick 
look  into  his  flushed  face,  winked,  and  observed: 
"  Never  you  mind,  Tim,  you  can  easy  get  the  inside 
track  of  him.  /  ain't  going  to  try  and  cut  you  out, 
anyhow.  Fact  is,  I  wouldn't  have  much  chance  with 
her  —  I  ain't  her  style,"  said  Dalton  with  perfect  good- 
humour  and  another  display  of  perspicacity. 

It  had,  of  course,  occurred  to  Chauncey  to  pump 
Lutie  Morehead  about  the  lady-roomer,  what  she  did, 
what  she  said,  above  all  he  desperately  wanted  to 
know  whether  she  ever  mentioned  Mm,  asked  any 
questions  about  him?     But  there  were  obstacles;  Lu- 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  325 

tie  herself  was  the  main  one !  She  was  forever  "  flag- 
ging ''  him ;  if  he  said  two  words  to  her,  the  next  thing 
she'd  be  hanging  round  his  neck,  he  thought  disgust- 
edly. Memories  of  sentimental  scenes  with  her  rose 
up  to  mock  and  irritate  him ;  she  would  infallibly  ex- 
pect him  to  begin  that  all  over  again,  and  if  he  did 
not,  if  instead  he  talked  of  Mrs.  Loring —  !  Chaun- 
cey  did  actually  know  enough  about  Lutie's  species 
by  this  time,  to  envisage  calamity. 

No  use,  therefore,  to  look  to  Lutie;  in  the  plain 
words  which  Chauncey  employed  privately,  he  did  not 
want  to  be  mixed  up  with  Lutie  any  more  than  could 
be  helped.  At  this  gloomy  moment,  chance  did  him 
a  good  turn  by  putting  young  Homer  in  his  way ;  ordi- 
narily he  took  no  notice  of  Homer,  but  the  latter  hav- 
ing undertaken  for  a  compensation  to  fetch  Mrs.  De- 
vitt  a  slice  of  ham  from  Schlochtermaier's,  Chauncey, 
waylaying  him  at  the  gate,  could  pass  the  time  of 
day  without  arousing  suspicion. 

"  Ah,  Homer !  " 

"  Ah,  yourself !  "  retorted  Homer,  ceasing  to  whis- 
tle, eyeing  him  expectantly. 

"  Pretty  busy  boy,  aren't  you?  "  said  Chauncey  af- 
fably. 

"  Why?     You  want  anything  done?  '' 

"  No,  oh,  no ! ''  said  Chauncey,  a  little  taken  aback. 
^^  I  —  ah  —  er  —  everybody  well  at  your  house?'' 

a  Yep.'' 

"  I  see  you've  got  your  front  room  rented.'' 

"  Yep." 

He  moved  to  pass,  but  Chauncey  detained  him,  cast- 
ing about  frantically  for  an  excuse.  "  Oh  —  ah  — 
any  of  you  going  to  the  rally?  " 

^'  Yep.     /  am.     I  got  a  job  helping  Ehrmann's  with 


326  THE  RUDDER 

the  ice-cream  freezers  —  they're  doing  the  catering, 
you  know/'  said  Homer ;  "  Lute's  going  too,  I  guess. 
She  said  first  she  couldn't,  but  I  guess  she'll  make  it 
somehow." 

"  Ah  I  "  said  Chauncey  again,  tepidly.  "  Hope  it 
wdll  be  a  nice  day." 

"  They'll  have  a  big  crowd  an^^how,"  said  Homer. 
And  now,  when  Chauncey  had  given  up  hope,  the  un- 
expected happened !  "  Mrs.  Loring  said  she  was  go- 
ing to  go,  if  it  poured  dow^n  rain.  She  wants  to  hear 
you  speak." 

Chauncey's  heart  impossibly  got  up  —  turned 
around  —  sat  down  again !  He  began  to  laugh  ner- 
vously.    "  Mrs.  Loring?  " 

^^  Yep.  She's  around  here  like  Miss  Penry,  you 
know.  She  and  Hilda  Schlochtermaier  are  going  to- 
gether." 

*^  Well,  well ! "  said  Chauncey,  from  a  dizzy  eleva- 
tion. Then  he  perceived  that  it  had  now  become  pos- 
sible for  him  to  ask  naturally :  "  What's  Mrs.  Loring 
like?" 

"  Say,  you're  about  the  forty-'leventh  person  —  man, 
I  mean  —  that's  ast  me  that !  "  said  Homer,  slightly 
bored.  "  Why,  she  ain't  like  anything.  She's  all 
right.  You  can  see  her  every  day.  She's  the  one 
that's  got  our  room,  that  dark-haired  lady,  I  guess 
you've  seen  her." 

"  Er  —  maybe  I  have.  Is  —  is  —  is  she  —  well, 
what  is  she  like?  " 

"  I  told  you.  She's  all  right.  That  is,  if  you  don't 
ast  her  too  many  questions,"  said  Homer;  and  upon 
some  sudden  recollection,  he  grinned.  "  Say,  you 
know  she's  married  to  this  here  Butch  Loring,  you 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  327 

know  who  he  is,  the  same  one  that's  playing  left  field 
for  the  Black  Sox  — ?  " 

^^  Yes,"  said  Chauncey  impatiently. 

"  Well,  you  know  she  won't  stay  with  him,  she'd 
ruther  come  down  here  and  live  and  go  out  around 
like  Miss  Penrv  done,  you  know,  and  Ma  and  the  rest 
they  think  she's  kinda  nutty.  But  you  take  it  from 
me,  she  ain't  I  Ma  hinted  round  and  then  come  right 
out  and  ast  her  what  for  she  left  Loring^  what  he  done 
to  her  and  all  that,  and  what  do  you  think  Mrs.  Loring 
did?  Just  looked  at  Ma  and  kinda  laughed.  That's 
all  I  Every  tiling!  ^^  recited  Homer,  chuckling.  "  Tell 
you.  Ma  got  hers  that  time  I  " 

Chauncey  listened  in  the  seventh  heaven,  though,  to 
be  sure,  he  was  not  particularly  interested  in  the 
tale  of  Mrs.  Morehead's  discomfiture.  To  bring  the 
conversation  back  to  the  main  point,  he  said :  "  I 
wonder  why  she's  so  anxious  to  hear  me." 

Homer  responded  frankly  that  Chauncey  might 
search  him! 

^'  She  —  she  didn't  say  anything  more  about  me?" 

"  Xope !  Xot  't  I  heard,  anyhow  I  "  Chauncey 
tipped  him  recklessly  and  lavishly  a  half  dollar  for 
running  the  ham  errand,  although  the  boy,  who  was 
lionest,  exclaimed.  "  Your  mother  paid  me,"  said 
Homer,  astonished.     "  Well,  all  right,  if  you  say  so  I  " 

The  day  of  the  rally  arrived  in  due  course,  but 
Chauncey  scarcely  knew  how  he  got  through  the  in- 
terval. The  address  he  was  to  give  he  later  incor- 
porated in  that  one  entitled,  "  The  Price  of  a  Man," 
which  has  become  familiar  to  many  audiences.  It 
contains  that  well-known  passage :  "  To  control  in- 
dustry, to  tame  it  to  the  usages  of  racial  growth,  to 


328  THE  RUDDER 

make  it  subservient  to  the  high  needs  of  life's  spiritual 
and  physical  evolution  —  that  is  the  age-long  war  into 
which  the  last  century  has  plunged  the  world.  It  is 
the  war  of  the  human  race  against  uncontrolled  in- 
dustry. It  is  the  dim-sighted,  gigantic  struggle  of 
mankind  against  the  domination  of  civilisation  by 
MACHINERY,  a  domination  that  puts  women  and  chil- 
dren into  factories  and  breaks  them  there;  that 
makes  of  the  workingman  an  unthinking  shell;  that 
slowly,  insidiously  threatens  the  home  idea;  that  is 
shaking  women's  moral  standards  and  glutting  men's 
SOULS  with  unearned  wealth  !  " 

Contrary  to  what  one  might  suppose,  it  was  no 
trouble  at  all  for  Chauncey  to  turn  off  paragraph 
after  paragraph  of  close  reasoning  and  lucid  exposi- 
tion like  the  above ;  he  had  the  facility  of  genius.  All 
the  while  he  was  thus  engaged,  he  was  thinking  —  alas 
for  moral  standards  and  the  home  idea !  —  about  his 
neighbour's  wife.  In  this  weather  she  went  forth 
every  day  in  plain  skirts,  plain  blouses  of  a  luminous 
whiteness,  which  seemed  magically  to  repel  dust  and 
soot;  the  heat  had  no  effect  on  her;  always  she  was 
like  a  fresh  cut  flower,  cool,  delicate  and  crisp  yet  with 
textures  of  alluring  suggestion.  The  morning  of  the 
picnic  dawned  to  the  joy  of  the  Thirteenth  Ward, 
clear,  hot  and  dry  as  Death  Valley;  and  Chauncey 
saw  his  lady  clad  as  described  in  white  linen,  pique  or 
what-not,  mystic,  wonderful,  waiting  on  the  front 
steps  for  Hilda  Schlochtermaier,  who  erelong  arrived, 
also  in  white,  also  crisp  and  clean  but  with  a  differ- 
ence. No  textures  about  Hilda;  she  was  all  edges  like 
a  "  saltine  "  cracker.  They  went  off  together ;  the 
street  was  already  full  of  a  cheerful  mob  heading  for 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  329 

the  public  landing.  Mr.  Devitt,  as  orator  of  the  day, 
did  not  mingle  with  these  profane  vulgar  souls  on 
board  the  Queen  City  of  the  West;  he  would  go  out  to 
Lowerj's  Beach  by  automobile. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  address  was  scheduled  for  half  past  three 
in  the  afternoon,  by  which  time  it  was  ex- 
pected that  the  "  barbecue,"  the  fat  men's  race 
( Prize :  a  box  of  cigars ) ,  the  three-legged  race  ( Prize : 
a  pair  apiece  of  Solomon  &  Kabakoff 's  "  Wearever 
Pants  " ) ,  the  potato  race  ( For  ladies.  Prize :  a  solid 
quadruple-plated  silver  hand-mirror),  the  tug-of-war, 
and  the  ball-game  between  the  Comers  (average  age 
twenty-one)  and  the  Goers  (average  age  thirty-five), 
would  be  over.  The  boat  went  back  at  five  with  those 
who  were  already  surfeited  with  the  day's  combined 
physical  and  intellectual  entertainment,  or  who  had 
to  get  supper  and  put  the  children  to  bed,  or  for  any 
other  reason  preferred  to  be  at  home ;  it  returned  later 
for  the  "  dancing  crowd."  Thus  all  tastes  were  con- 
sulted, and  none  were  allowed  to  conflict;  even  the 
orator  must  cram  all  his  eloquence  into  a  speech  of 
forty  minutes'  length  —  no  more  were  he  Demos- 
thenes !  Chauncey  was  what  his  chief  and  benefactor, 
Mr.  Dalton,  wittily  termed  "  heeled  " ;  that  is,  he  knew 
the  regulations  and  had  timed  himself  accordingly. 
He  ascended  the  platform,  bowed  to  the  applause  with 
his  striking  and  perfectly  spontaneous  beauty  of  move- 
ment, and  launched  out,  searching  the  audience  mean- 
while for  Mrs.  Loring.  He  had  thought  he  could  sin- 
gle her  in  her  white  dress  out  of  any  number;  but 
Heavens  and  Earth,  there  were  countless  hundreds 
of   women   in   white   dresses!     A   mania   for   white 

330 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  331 

dresses  appeared  to  have  overtaken  the  entire  feminine 
community.  And  so  far  from  being  tall,  slender, 
fresh,  piquant,  distinguished,  was  there  ever  before 
such  an  assemblage  of  dowdy,  dumpy,  gawky,  string- 
haired,  red-faced,  perspiring  —  briskly  he  averted  his 
glance!     He  had  caught  Lutie's  eye! 

".  .  .  The  army  of  toilers,  unable  to  protect  them- 
selves as  individuals,  and  denied  the  right  to  organise 
under  threat  of  discharge  and  blacklisting  .  .  ."  he 
declaimed  in  his  strong  and  thrilling  voice,  and  con- 
tinued the  search.  She  would  be,  of  course,  with 
Hilda  Schlochtermaier,  and  Hilda  was  homely  enough, 
in  all  conscience,  to  stand  out,  even  from  this  aggre- 
gation, like  a  sunflower  on  a  coal  heajD.  ..."  mil- 
lions in  men  and  money  handed  over  to  some  son  as 
a  birthday  gift  —  the  destinies  of  thousands  depend- 
ent upon  a  STOCK-MARKET  transaction!  And  yet- 
there  is  wonder  at  industrial  unrest — "  There  she 
was ! 

Chauncey  halted  inadvertently ;  some  admirers,  in- 
genuously supposing  that  it  was  the  moment  for  ap- 
plause, started  off  resoundingly,  and  this  gave  him 
time  to  recover.  She  was  sitting  erect  and  tense,  ab- 
sorbed, listening,  one  might  have  said,  with  every 
nerve  of  her;  a  wave  of  gratification  swept  over  the 
young  man.  He  waited  for  the  hand-clapping  and 
shouting  to  subside  with  a  patient,  deprecating  smile, 
his  eyes  fixed  on  hers;  then  began  again,  directly  at 
her. 

"  Ain't  he  the  dandiest  looldng  fellow,  though !  " 
a  girlish  neighbour,  quite  unknown  to  Eleanor,  sighed 
in  her  ear,  unable  to  restrain  her  enthusiasm.  Elea- 
nor drew  away,  scarcely  heeding,  but  annoyed.  She 
wanted  to  be  let  alone,  to  concentrate  every  faculty 


332  THE  RUDDER 

on  following  the  argument  which,  she  said  to  herself 
in  humiliation  at  her  own  unwonted  slowness,  was 
proving  much  more  intricate  than  she  had  expected. 
How  ignorant  and  feeble  had  been  all  her  conceptions 
of  the  relations  between  Capital  and  Labour!  She 
now^  saw  how  complicated  they  were.  She  had  indeed 
suspected  that  things  w^ere  gravely  wrong;  but  this 
man  knew!  His  voice  moved  her  to  the  very  core,  it 
was  so  earnest,  so  pleading.  Of  course  he  had  to  use 
some  rhetorical  and  melodramatic  devices  in  speaking 
to  an  audience  such  as  this;  disliking  artifice,  he  yet 
must  suit  the  tool  to  the  material,  Eleanor  sympathet- 
ically divined.  But  he  himself  was  sincerity  and  con- 
viction embodied.  His  words  that  rang  with  brave 
and  righteous  defiance  held  besides  a  tone  of  exalted 
resignation,  as  if  he  felt  himself  to  be  a  voice  crying 
in  the  wilderness,  yet  —  because  he  had  the  vision !  — 
he  could  find  faith  and  hope  to  keep  on,  undeterred. 

".  .  .  To  control  industry,  to  tame  it  to  the  usages 
of  racial  growth,  to  make  it  subservient  to  the  high 
needs  of  life's  spiritual  and  physical  evolution  —  that 
is  the  age-long  war  into  which  the  last  century  has 
plunged  the  world.  It  is  the  war  of  the  human  race 
against  uncontrolled  industry  .  .  ," 

Here  the  orator  was  again  interrupted  by  a  burst 
of  approval,  which,  however,  may  not  have  been  abso- 
lutely unanimous,  for,  under  cover  of  the  noise  a 
man's  voice  behind  Eleanor  drawled :  " '  Uncon- 
trolled industry,'  hey?  Devitt  ought  to  see  our  nig- 
ger janitor  once !  He's  got  liis  industry  under  elegant 
control !  " 

Somebody  else  gave  a  short  snort  of  laughter,  and 
—  as  the  applause  began  to  die  down  —  shot  back  a 
whisper :     "  Say,  Jim,  I've  had  'bout  'nough.     What 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  333 

say  we  pass  up  tlie  rest  of  it,  'n'  less  go  out  'n'  get  a 
drink?"     Their  chairs  scraped. 

Eleanor  glowed  with  anger.  Eyes  have  they  and 
see  not  I  Ears  and  they  hear  not  I  But  this  was  prob- 
ably only  a  fragment  expressive  of  the  whole,  a  single 
examxDle  of  the  indifference,  the  dull  humour  with 
which  that  strong  and  self-sacrificing  spirit  yonder 
on  the  platform  had  always  to  contend.  By  what 
irony  of  the  gods  was  it  decreed  that  she  who  did 
not  need  to  be  persuaded  was  the  most  appreciative, 
the  most  conscientious  listener  he  had  I  Once  or 
twice  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  he  must  have  found  her 
out,  by  one  of  those  strange  intuitions  which  we  have 
all  felt  and  followed;  his  eves  certainlv  sought  hers. 

",  .  .  And  when  the  robbers,  time  and  death 

Across  my  path  conspiring  stand, 

I  cheat  them  with  a  clod,  a  breath, 

And  pass  the  swoed  from  hand  to  hand !  " 

It  was  over;  everybody  was  getting  up,  while  she 
still  sat  tranced,  the  noble  voice  vibrating  through 
her ;  and  Mr.  Devitt  still  stood,  with  one  hand  resting 
on  the  little  table  at  the  side  of  the  stage,  acknowl- 
edging a  parting  salvo  from  the  audience,  and  then 
turning  his  gaze,  most  unequivocally  this  time,  in  her 
direction.  Oh,  he  had  recognised  her,  that  was  it! 
He  bowed  witli  his  usual  deliberation. 

Miss  Schlochtermaier  rose,  too,  shaking  out  her  stiff 
skirts.  "  Well,  I  guess  that's  all,  Mrs.  Loring.  He 
always  ends  up  that  way  with  a  verse  of  portry.  I 
don't  know  w^hat  the  portry's  got  to  do  with  it,  but 
I  never  heard  him  once  that  he  didn't  speak  some  right 
at  the  end.  That  sword-and-hand  verse,  or  else  that 
one  about  steering  yourself  straight.  I  can't  remem- 
ber what  it  says  exactly."     She  glanced  at  Eleanor's 


334  THE  KUDDEE 

irradiated  face,  and  gave  an  exclamation.  "  Mrs. 
Loring!  Why,  you  —  you  ain't  been  cr7/i/i^f  What's 
the  matter?  Does  it  hurt  you  anywhere?  You  ain't 
feeling  bad?  " 

"  No,  no ! ''  said  Eleanor.  "  I'm  well  —  I'm  all 
\  right ! ''  And  in  proof  she  laughed  a  little  hysteri- 
•  cally.  "I  —  I  was  just  interested  —  you  know?  —  in 
w^hat  he  said.'' 

"  Well,  I  should  thinic!  '^  said  Miss  Schlochtermaier, 
surveying  her  with  critical  concern.  ^^  You  look  all 
worked  up  I  I  seen  other  people  get  that  way  too,  at 
church  revivals  and  places  like  that,  you  know. 
There,  now  you're  laughing  real  natural !  "  she  ejacu- 
lated in  open  relief.  "  Honest,  I  was  scared  for  a 
minute !  " 

"  Dear  me,  I  must  have  been  a  spectacle !  " 

"  Don't  you  worry ! "  said  the  other  devotedly  ad- 
miring. "  You  couldn't  look  anything  but  the  sweet- 
est 'n'  prettiest  thing  that  ever  was,  if  you  tried! 
Mrs.  Loring,  I  just  can't  help  saying  it  to  your  face. 
My,  your  eyes  are  just  like  stars ! " 

They  had  elected  to  go  home  at  five,  neither  one 
caring  to  join  the  "  dancing  crowd."  It  wasn't  al- 
ways so  grand  anyhow,  on  the  late  boat,  Hilda  averred 
guardedly;  she  didn't  see  any  use  of  having  such  a 
lot  to  drink,  and  the  girls  and  fellows  after  they  got 
to  dancing  —  oh,  she  didn't  know  —  it  was  too  kinda 
sporty  for  her.  Now  this  trip  you  weren't  nearly  so 
crowded,  and  it  was  mostly  family  parties,  and  what 
if  them  poor  tired,  sleepy  kids  did  get  to  scrapping  and 
yelling  their  heads  off,  that  didn't  hurt  you.  And 
you  got  home  in  good  daylight.  Tell  you,  a  girl  had 
ought  to  be  careful  these  days !     Hers  was  the  ancient 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  335 

voice  of  Respectability,  which  occasionally  finds  itself 
crying  in  a  wilderness,  too! 

Sure  enough,  they  fell  in  with  a  number  of  family 
parties,  among  them  the  Tom  Moreheads,  Tom  freshly 
shaven  and  washed,  and  dressed  in  his  cheap  best  and 
manfully  lugging  the  baby,  all  of  which  Eleanor  was 
gratified  to  note.  She  went  and  spoke  to  them ;  Tom 
looked  up  at  her  with  too  much  admiration  by  far  in 
his  good-natured,  characterless  face  to  suit  Mrs.  Tom, 
scowling  in  elaborate  gewgaws  and  open-worked,  em- 
broidered, short-sleeved  and  low-necked  finery,  from 
the  seat  beside  him.  She  had  wanted  to  stay  for  the 
dancing,  and  resented  bitterly  the  "  poky  "  obligations 
of  married  life,  a  husband  to  be  fed,  dishes  to  be 
washed,  a  baby  to  be  nursed ;  and  lumped  Mrs.  Loring 
in  with  the  rest  of  her  crosses.  What  business  did 
sJie  have  coming  round  pretending  to  be  poor,  and 
looking  like  that? 

'^Xo;  she  ain't  been  good  —  she  ain't  ever  good  — 
she's  crying  and  fussing  the  whole  time,"  she  said 
savagely  in  answer  to  Eleanor's  inquiry  about  the 
baby.  "  Well,  I  gTiess  Tom  had  better  carry  his  own 
kid  for  once.  I'm  dog-tired  with  her.  Look  how's 
she  got  me  all  mussed  up  I  I  ain't  fit  to  be  seen,  she's 
spoiled  everything  I  got.  Seems  like  a  baby's  the 
hottest  thing  on  earth.  I'll  bet  it  was  ninety  to-day, 
and  if  you  hold  her  for  a  minute,  you  feel  like  it 
was  a  hundred  and  ninety." 

''  She's  all  right  with  daddy,  ain't  you,  kid?  "  said 
Tom,  juggling  the  pallid,  sticky,  whimpering  little 
creature  from  one  knee  to  the  other. 

Lutie  sauntered  up,  and  her  sister-in-law  imme- 
diately transferred  her  resentment  to  her;  but,  not 


336  THE  KUDDER 

being  secretly  afraid  of  Lutie,  Mrs.  Tom  expressed 
her  mood  with  much  more  point  and  venom. 

"Hello,  Lute!  Where's  jour  beau?  Chauncey's 
always  so  attentive  —  or  did  he  shake  you  this  time?  '' 

"Ain't  it  funny,  Mrs.  Loring,  how  common  some 
people  talk,  and  they're  just  the  kind  that  never  get 
to  learn  any  different ! "  said  Lutie,  achieving  a  fin- 
ished unconcern.  "Was  you  asking  about  Mr.  De- 
vitt,  Lina?  Why,  he's  gone  back  in  the  machine,  same 
w^ay  he  come." 

"Machine?  Gee,  he  has  it  pretty  easy!"  Tom  re- 
marked, not  unreasonably. 

"  Well,  you  could  too,  if  you  was  half  as  smart  as 
he  is !  "  snapped  his  wife.  Tom  smiled  feebly  over  the 
baby  at  Eleanor. 

"  She's  kinda  tired,"  he  said  in  apology. 

Eleanor  judged  it  high  time  to  withdraw,  before 
relations  amongst  the  Moreheads  became  any  more 
strained.  Besides,  she  really  would  like  a  few  min- 
utes apart,  to  review  Mr.  Devitt's  speech,  while  it  was 
still  fresh  in  her  mind.  To  her  surprise,  however,  it 
was  even  now  difficult  to  recall  exactly  what  he  had 
said ;  her  memory  was  provokingly  blank  except  as  to 
his  eyes,  the  tones  of  his  voice,  his  unconsciously  dra- 
matic figure.  In  the  middle  of  this,  Lutie  came  and 
stood  beside  her,  rather  to  her  annoyance;  but  Lutie 
was  for  once  subdued  in  mood,  staring  absently  at 
the  stretches  of  sand-bar  and  drying  mud  left  bare 
by  the  shrinking  river,  at  the  fleets  of  coal-barges,  the 
fishing-camps,  the  shanty-boats,  the  Government 
dredge,  slipping  by  in  slow  defile.  After  a  while  she 
sighed  heavily. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Loring,  don't  you  think  he  talks  beau- 
tifully?" 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  337 

"He?  Oh,  YOU  mean  Mr.  Devitt?''  said  Eleanor, 
somehow  disconcerted  to  find  that  they  had  been  think- 
ing about  the  same  person  with  an  equal  absorption. 
"  Why,  I  — '' 

"  Of  course,  though,  you're  used  to  it,''  said  Lutie, 
half  envious,  half  wistful.  "  You  hear  your  uncle  all 
the  time  —  the  one  that  writes  the  books  —  of  course 
you've  heard  him  talk  a  lot." 

u  ^^ell  —  er  —  my  uncle  rather  makes  fun  of  things. 
He's  —  he's  not  at  all  like  Mr.  Devitt.  He  hardly 
ever  lets  you  see  his  —  his  serious  side  —  what  he 
reallij  thinks,  you  know,''  Eleanor  explained  reluc- 
tantly ;  it  sounded  lame  in  her  own  ears.  Never  be- 
fore iiad  the  thought  of  her  uncle  been  unwelcome  to 
her,  but  just  now  —  !  A  curious  and  irritating  un- 
easiness invaded  her.  No,  her  Uncle  Marshall  did  not 
"  talk  beautifully  " ;  it  was  impossible  to  imagine  him 
"  talking  beautifully  "  according  to  Lutie's  standard, 
that  is  to  say,  in  any  fashion  remotely  resembling  Mr. 
Devitt.  The  mere  notion,  as  Eleanor  was  uncomfort- 
ably aware,  would  fill  him  with  stark  delight.  He 
was  easily  capable  of  making  fun  of  Mr.  Devitt  among 
the  thousand  other  people  —  including  himself  —  that 
he  ruthlessly  made  fun  of;  nothing  was  sacred  to 
Uncle  Marshall,  and  nobody  safe  from  his  innocent- 
sounding  comments. 

She  felt  Lutie  at  her  side  give  a  kind  of  twitch,  and 
looked  around  and  saw  Miss  Schlochtermaier  coming 
towards  them  with  what  dark  and  picturesque  and 
cavalier  personage —  I 

"  That's  her  I  Mrs.  Loring,  I  want  you  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  Mr.  Devitt,"  Hilda  proclaimed.  "  I 
just  been  telling  him  how  interested  you  was  I  " 

Their  hands  touched.     A  bolt  of  fire,  a  bolt  of  ice 


338  THE  RUDDER 

sped  through  the  young  man.  What  was  she  say- 
ing? 

"Oh,  but  we've  met!  Isn't  that  so,  Mr.  Devitt? 
Only  it  was  so  very  informally  over  a  mud-puddle  that 
we've  both  been  undecided  since  whether  we  ought  to 
speak  or  cut  each  other  dead !  " 

Chauncey  was  momentarily  taken  aback  by  her 
frankness;  the  next  instant  he  was  inwardly  pro- 
nouncing it  with  rapture  "  cute."  He  had  no  answer 
ready,  but  stood  looking  dow^n  at  her,  smiling  and 
reddening  a  little,  boyishly  and  very  becomingly  em- 
barrassed. 

"  Really  we  were  both  very  stiff  and  absurd,  weren't 
we?  "  said  Eleanor  with  a  little  knowing,  confidential 
grimace  that  Chauncey  found  utterly  enchanting,  no 
less  so  than  her  words.  It  was  provoking  that  he  still 
could  think  of  no  rejoinder  sufficiently  bright,  but 
Eleanor  should  have  been  satisfied  with  the  way  he 
looked  at  her. 

"  Thought  you  were  going  back  to  the  city  in  your 
machine,  Chaunce,"  Lutie  said,  harmlessly  enough, 
but  Chauncey  forthwith  hated  her.  He  hated  her  for 
that  familiar  address  —  for  her  misleading  air  of  pro- 
prietary knowledge  of  his  movements,  which  were 
none  of  her  business  —  for  putting  him  to  the  trouble 
of  inventing  excuses  —  for  rolling  her  eyes  meaningly 
at  him  —  for  being  fat  —  for  existing  at  all  on  the 
same  planet  with  himself  and  Mrs.  Loring! 

"  No !  "  he  said  shortly.  "  I  hadn't  any  idea  of  it. 
It's  not  my  machine.  I  haven't  any."  His  eyes  went 
back  to  Eleanor. 

"What's  good  enough  for  the  rest  of  us's  good 
enough  for  you,  ain't  it,  Chauncey? "  said  Miss 
Schlochtermaier,  maternally. 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  339 

"  I  hope  so  I ''  said  the  young  man,  with  a  fine  lifting 
of  the  head. 

Eleanor,  watching  him,  said  to  herself  that  she 
could  understand  how  Lutie  might  irritate  him;  it 
would  be  misery  to  such  a  spirit  to  have  any  act  mis- 
construed in  Lutie's  peculiarly  sordid  and  petty  way. 
She  spoke  to  him  impetuously ;  nothing  "  cute  "  about 
her  manner  now !  '^  It's  true  what  Miss  Hilda  was 
saying  just  now,  Mr.  Devitt,  I'm  very  much  interested 
in  your  work.  All  this  time,  I've  been  wanting  to 
speak  to  you,  to  —  to  ask  you  about  things,  you 
know?  " 

"  Yes?  "  said  Chauncey  gravely. 

"  I've  been  so  much  puzzled.  I  see  things  happen- 
ing that  I  l:noio  are  all  wrong,  yet  everybody  takes 
them  for  granted,  even  the  people  that  are  suffering 
by  them!  I  feel  as  if  people  like  myself  who  are  a 
little  outside  of  it,  ought  to  do  something  —  it's  not 
right,  it  can^t  be  right  for  us  to  stand  and  look  on  — ?  " 
She  paused  on  an  upward  inflection,  and  Chauncey 
bent  his  head  in  slow  and  melancholy  recognition  of 
the  evils  she  had  marked,  like  a  sad  young  prophet. 

"  But  I  don't  know  how  to  begin  I  I  don't  know 
what  to  do  I  "  Eleanor  turned  her  flushed,  lovely,  en- 
thusiastic face  full  on  him  with  a  look  almost  plead- 
ing. She  was  devoutly  and  most  self-forgetfully  in 
earnest.  If  that  ironic  little  man,  her  uncle,  could 
have  seen  and  heard  her,  he  would  have  been  stirred 
to  the  depths  of  the  soul  which  he  would  probably 
have  vehemently  denied  possessing;  Marshall  would 
have  found  her  pathetically  splendid  with  her  vague, 
brave  convictions,  her  wasted  fires. 

"  Ah,  but  do  any  of  us  know  what  to  do,  Mrs.  Lor- 
ing?  "  Chauncey  said  with  a  tired  smile. 


340  THE  EUDDEE 

■  *^  Why,  you  do !  You're  doing  sometliing  all  tlie 
time.  I  suppose  it's  like  rolling  a  mill-stone  uphill, 
but  you  keep  at  it  anyhow !  " 

Chauncey  shrugged.  "  Oh,  my  small  efforts  —  ! 
Wouldn't  you  like  to  sit  down?  There're  two  places 
over  there." 

They  established  themselves  by  the  rail.  Chauncey 
leaned  one  elbow  on  it,  propping  his  head  on  his  hand, 
and  gazed  at  her  pensively.  Neither  of  them  knew 
what  had  become  of  the  other  couple,  and  alas,  neither 
of  them  cared.  As  a  matter  of  fact.  Miss  Schlochter- 
maier  had  benevolently  drawn  Lutie  away,  hooking  an 
arm  into  hers,  for  a  stroll  around  the  decks. 

"  I  know  she  wants  to  talk  to  him  —  you  oughta 
seen  her  this  afternoon  while  he  was  making  his 
speech  —  all  worked  up  ready  to  cry !  Don't  ask  me 
why,  'cause  I'll  never  tell  you !  I  can't  make  head  nor 
tail  out  of  that  kinda  high-brow  stuff ! "  said  the  lit- 
tle stenographer  with  a  species  of  affectionate  amuse- 
ment. "  But  she's  perfectly  wrapped  up  in  it,  and 
all  I  got  to  say  is,  if  they  w^ant  to  talk,  for  the  Lord's 
sake  let  'em !  Only  you  'n'  I  don't  have  to  stand  it !  " 
Lutie  allowed  herself  to  be  trailed  along,  not  very 
graciously,  battling  against  certain  shadowy  misgiv- 
ings. 

Meanwhile,  Eleanor  was  experiencing  anew  that 
mortifying  sensation  of  not  being  able  to  lay  hold  on 
anything  in  the  labour-leader's  address,  potent  as  had 
been  its  effect  on  her.  She  was  sure  that  he  had 
touched  on  many  points  upon  which  she  urgently 
needed  further  illumination,  but  was  baffled  by  the 
persistent  fact  that  she  could  not  remember  them! 
How  talk  intelligently  to  a  man  about  his  statements 
and  opinions,  when  to  save  her  soul  she  could  not 


BREAD  AND  CIRCX'SES  341 

quote  a  single  word  of  his  concerning  them?  That 
phrase  "  uncontrolled  industry  ''  indeed  returned  to 
her,  but  now  accompanied  by  the  recollection  of  the 
two  unappreciative  men  behind  her,  it  only  evoked  a 
heinous  desire  to  laugh  I  She  ended  by  saying  rather 
timidly :  "  The  whole  thing  is  very  hard  to  under- 
stand, isn't  it,  Mr.  Devitt?  All  those  questions  you've 
studied,  I  mean.  They  —  they're  very  compli- 
cated." 

"  Why,  no.     I've  always  found  them  very  simple." 

He  smiled  at  her  kindly,  indulgently.  ''  Of  course 
he's  used  to  banalities  such  as  that  remark  of  mine  I  *^ 
thought  Eleanor ;  and  she  was  silent  a  moment,  vexed 
with  herself,  looking  down,  playing  with  the  tassel  of 
her  parasol.  Chauncey  continued  to  gaze,  admiring 
her  eyelashes,  her  ear  with  a  loose  tendril  of  hair  curl- 
ing caressingly  around  the  pink  lobe  of  it.  She  raised 
her  eyes,  and  he  hastily  turned  away  his  own  —  not 
soon  enough,  however,  to  avert  the  dumbfounding  sus- 
picion that  for  the  first  time  shot  through  Eleanor's 
mind.  The  next  instant  she  told  herself  angrily  that 
it  was  ridiculous. 

"  I  daresay  it  does  seem  simple  to  you.  But  other 
people  don't  understand.  That  accounts  for  their  op- 
position, don't  you  think?  Because  I'm  sure  nobody 
is  really  mean.  Thev  don't  understand,  that's 
all—?" 

She  halted  as  before  with  a  questioning  rise  in  her 
voice  that  Chauncey  found  charming  —  though,  this 
time,  he  began  to  wish  that  she  wouldn't  be  quite  so 
"  intense."  It  kept  him  on  the  stretch,  not  knowing 
what  extraordinary  unkno^-n  and  therefore  unsafe 
territory  she  might  go  exploring  into  next.  Mr. 
T.  Chauncey  Devitt's  type  of  student  and  philosopher 


342  THE  RUDDER 

is  one  that  invariably  keeps  the  straight  and  beaten 
path.     He  bowed  his  head  again  in  grave  assent. 

"  I  hope  you  don't  mind  my  coming  to  you  with  my 
difficulties,"  said  Eleanor  apologetically.  "Some- 
times this  afternoon,  I  thought  you  were  speaking  di- 
rectly to  me,  as  if  you  realised  that  I  honestly  icanted 
to  be  told  —  that  I  was  at  least  trying  to  follow 
you  — " 

Chauncey  received  an  inordinately  encouraging 
thrill.  "  I  was!  I  was  speaking  to  you,''  he  said,  his 
fine  voice  trembling  slightly.     "  Only  to  you !  " 

ii  I've  —  I've  often  heard  that  orators  w^ould  single 
out  some  person  in  the  audience — ''  Eleanor  stam- 
mered, startled ;  "  somebody  that  seemed  to  be  —  er  — 
sympathetic  — " 

"  Yes.  Soul  speaks  to  soul  sometimes.  One  feels 
it,"  said  Chauncey,  venturing  farther. 

And  what  would  Mr.  Marshall  Cook  have  said  to 
that  specimen  exhibit  of  the  art  of  "  talking  beauti- 
fully "  ?  He  came  into  Eleanor's  mind  again  at  the 
moment  that  she  darted  her  companion  a  glance  edged 
like  a  razor.  That  was  exactly  the  sort  of  speech  with 
which  Uncle  Marshall  amused  himself  when  people 
bored  him  w^ith  exactly  the  sort  of  speech  she  had  just 
been  making,  she  thought.  She  ought  to  have  known 
better ;  she  had  got  what  she  deserved.  The  difference  , 
between  her  and  Uncle  Marshall's  victims  was  that 
whereas  they  were  unconscious  and  consequently  un-  % 
hurt,  sJie  was  clever  enough  to  know  when  she  had 
been  stupid !  Mr.  Devitt  made  fun  more  openly,  more 
mercilessly  than  her  uncle,  but  she  rather  liked  him 
for  it.  The  man  had  to  do  something;  in  all  prob- 
ability he  was  fairly  hounded  by  sentimental  females 
who  "  thought  he  was  speaking  directly  to  them/'  and 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  343 

who  considered  themselves  "  sympathetic  '' —  Grr-r  ! 

"  You're  not  angrj^  with  me? "  said  Chauncey, 
alarmed  by  her  silence,  her  quick  colour,  and  most  of 
all  by  the  sudden  deadly  brightness  of  that  glance. 
*'  Mrs.  Loring,  did  I  offend  you  by  —  by  saying  that?  '' 

To  his  relief,  she  laughed  —  a  wholly  delightful, 
wholly  friendly  laugh.  The  look  she  gave  him  now 
was  gay,  mischievous,  confidential.  "  Xo,  oh,  no,  Mr. 
Devitt !  I'm  only  angry  at  myself  for  being  silly.  I 
promise  you  it  won't  happen  again  I ''  she  told  him  — 
a  perfectly  incomprehensible  statement  to  Chauncey, 
but  the  infatuated  young  fellow  was  too  happy  to 
trouble  about  deciphering  it ;  it  was  enough  that  she 
should  be  ready,  even  openly  pleased  to  establish  him 
on  this  blissfully  intimate  footing.  For  the  short 
remainder  of  the  excursion  up  to  the  final  moment  on 
Poplar  Street,  she  was  not  once  "  intense  "'  again ;  on 
the  contrary,  enchantingly  "  cute  ''  I 


CHAPTER  VI 

DURING  the  following  clajs  it  was  natural  that 
Eleanor  and  her  new  acquaintance  should  en- 
counter each  other  even  more  frequently  than 
before.  Perhaps  they  were  looking  for  each  other; 
one  of  them,  at  least,  was  not  above  timing  and  map- 
ping out  his  walks  abroad  to  that  sole  end.  For  now 
Chauncey  need  no  longer  restrict  himself  to  grave, 
wordless  salutations,  to  prolonged  and  deep-eyed  gaz- 
ing. He  could  boldly  cross  over  and  speak  to  her, 
join  her  and  walk  by  her  side,  help  her  on  or  off  the 
street-car,  carry  a  parcel  or  mail  a  letter  for  her,  hold 
an  umbrella  over  her.  He  forced  himself  to  be  satis- 
fied with  these  snatches  of  her  company,  brief  and 
public  as  they  were ;  for  deliberately  to  propose  seeing 
her  elsewhere,  or  to  visit  her  at  the  Morehead  house 
was  unthinkable.  Putting  aside  that  unfortunate, 
lovelorn,  jealous  Lutie,  it  was  unthinkable.  There 
were  moments  when  he  desperately  chafed  at  these 
restraints,  told  himself  that  he  could  not  endure  the 
tantalising  situation,  devised  one  insane  scheme  for 
altering  it  after  another  until  his  brain  ached  —  all  to 
no  purpose.  Knowing  the  young  man,  one  might  have 
supposed  that  he  would  infinitely  relish  the  romance 
of  his  position,  in  love  with  a  woman  of  different  so- 
cial rank,  a  married  woman  at  that,  beautiful  and 
unhappy!  Time  was  when  Chauncey  could  have 
dreamed  of  nothing  more  delightful  than  to  find  him- 
self in  such  a  role.     Lo,  in  actual  practice,  it  turned 

344 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  345 

out  to  be  sheer  torment  I  It  devastated  Ms  nights, 
took  away  his  appetite,  gave  him  a  distaste  for  every- 
thing else  in  life.  He  passed  hours  in  alternations  of 
miserable  hope  that  she  knew  —  that  she  did  not  know 
—  that  she  would  stay  on  Poplar  Street  forever  — 
that  she  would  go  back  to  her  home  where  he  could 
follow  and  see  her  in  private.  As  has  been  hinted,  for 
a  bachelor  to  go  calling  on  a  pretty  young  married 
woman,  to  say  nothing  of  carrying  on  an  intrigue  watli 
her,  would  not  be  respectable  on  Poplar  Street;  but 
Chauncey  entertained  the  belief  —  not  altogether  er- 
roneous —  that  in  Mrs.  Loring's  circle,  it  might  be 
done,  if  done  with  discretion  and  good  taste.  How- 
ever, there  was  no  present  outlook  that  way;  there 
was  no  outlook  in  any  direction;  contrariwise,  there 
was  the  imperative  necessity  for  him  to  keep  his  state 
from  the  public  knowledge.  Chauncey  did  his  best, 
warring  against  absent-mindedness,  attacks  of  the 
blues,  the  disposition  to  "  hang  around  "  Mrs.  Loring 
too  markedly,  to  look  at  her  too  often,  too  long,  too 
ardently.  He  did  his  best  with  tolerable  success,  if 
one  could  judge  by  the  fact  that  nobody  appeared  to 
notice  anything  amiss  with  him,  or  asked  any  sus- 
picious question  —  excepting  Jack  Dalton  —  Dalton 
of  the  Mephistophelian  powers  of  observation  I  — 
who  startled  him  out  of  a  sombre  mood  one  day  by 
inquiring  what  was  up,  and  had  the  little  grass- 
widow  showed  him  the  frozen  face? 

^'  I  —  I  —  I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about,'' 
stuttered  Chauncey,  purple  to  the  eyebrows,  showing 
so  unmistakably  that  he  knew  perfectly  well  what  the 
other  was  talking  about,  that  Dalton  roared  out  with 
laughter. 

" 'S  all  right,  Timmiel     I  ain't  going  to  give  you 


346  THE  EUDDER 

away/'  he  said,  when  he  could  speak,  wiping  tears  of 
the  keenest  enjoyment  from  his  eyes.  ^'  What  w^ould 
I  w^ant  to  talk  about  it  for  anyway?  That  wouldn't 
get  me  nothing ! ''  And  in  fact,  Chauncey  knew  that 
the  dictator's  word  was  to  be  depended  on  in  this  in- 
stance ;  Mr.  Dalton  had  eminently  the  qualities  of  his 
Satanic  gifts. 

Besides,  he  had  other  business  of  real  importance  on 
hand,  business  Avhich  might  presently  require  the  tal- 
ents of  T.  Chauncey  Devitt,  too.  About  this  time 
rumours  began  to  circulate  of  new  labour  ^^  agitation." 
It  was  amongst  the  ice-men,  teamsters,  pullers  and  so 
on ;  they  were  to  be  organised  for  mutual  defence  and 
protection,  to  obtain  more  pay,  easier  hours,  freedom 
on  Sundays  —  to  control  their  industry,  in  short.  In 
their  union  there  would  emphatically  be  strength,  for 
these  things  being  denied,  they  would  incontinently 
go  on  strike,  and  then  where  Avould  everybody  be  with 
the  thermometer  at  ninety  in  the  shade? 

"  Sundays  off,  hey?  "  young  Homer  Moreland  re- 
marked. "  Well,  that'll  be  another  day  for  Tom  to  get 
soused  on ! " 

"  Not  if  there's  no  ice  to  chill  the  stuff  with,  Homer," 
said  Mr.  Kendrick ;  "  you  can't  drink  lukewarm  beer 
—  not  enough  to  get  happy  on,  that  is." 

"  Oh,  the  s'loons'll  have  ice  all  right ;  the  breweries 
make  it  theirselves.  They  won't  have  no  trouble. 
Not  while  Jack  Dalton's  thirsty  anyhow,"  said  Homer 
sardonically.     "  You  wait  and  see !  " 

But  those  who  adjusted  themselves  to  follow  this 
advice  would  have  been  disappointed.  For,  all  at 
once,  the  talk  died  down ;  nobody  was  thinking  about 
the  woes  of  ice-men  or  their  organisation  against  op- 
pression ;  nobody  dreamed  of  striking ;  the  vans  of  the 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  347 

Independent  Comi)any,  the  Eureka  Fuel  &  Cold  Stor- 
age Company,  the  North  Hills  Ice  Delivery,  the  Elm- 
wood  Ice  Company,  the  A.  Loring  &  Company  (which, 
it  was  popularly  believed,  owned  all  the  others)  con- 
tinued to  drive  about  the  town,  melodiously  proclaim- 
ing their  wares  at  everybody's  back-door.  Peoi)le 
drew  a  relieved  breath,  and  took  a  dime's  worth  in- 
stead of  the  usual  twenty  cents',  because  for  an  odd 
coincidence,  the  weather  had  just  turned  cool.  A 
wave  of  low  temperature  swept  the  country ;  Nashville 
reported  64  "^  at  twelve  noon,  Chicago  a  drop  of  thirty 
in  one  half-hour;  frost  was  feared  in  North  Dakota; 
corn  quotations  soared  on  all  the  exchanges ;  according 
to  the  Bureau,  the  refreshing  condition  was  to  last  a 
week ;  the  newspaper  humourist  wanted  to  know  where 
his  ear-muffs  had  been  put ;  and  —  to  repeat  —  by  the 
strangest  coincidence,  the  ice-men  ceased  to  discuss 
their  wrongs  and  the  possible  remedies. 

Incidentally,  T.  Chauncey  was  left  at  leisure  to  pur- 
sue the  path  that  is  notoriously  the  reverse  of  smooth. 
^'  If  she  turns  you  down  again,  go  and  get  drunk, 
Tim,"  the  secretary  of  the  Federated  Teamsters  coun- 
selled him  benevolently.  "  You  got  plenty  of  time. 
Nothing  doing  around  here  for  a  week  or  so  yet !  " 
As  it  happened,  however,  that  was  a  means  of  solace 
not  acceptable  to  this  hero;  he  had  always  been  a 
commendably  temperate  young  man. 

Moreover,  to  tell  the  truth,  a  much  more  diffident 
lover  than  Chauncey  would  have  perceived  that  the 
lady,  if  she  did  not  absolutely  encourage  him,  had  cer- 
tainly not  as  yet  "  turned  him  down."  What  was 
she  thinking  of?  Whither  was  she  drifting,  and  let- 
ting him  drift?  She  herself  deliberately  refused  to 
know.     Mrs.   Eleanor  Loring  was  thirty  and  some- 


348  THE  EUDDER 

tiling;  with  all  her  sporadic  unconventionality,  she 
was  a  completely  sophisticated  young  woman  who  had 
spent  a  very  considerable  part  of  the  fifteen  years  since 
her  entrance  into  society  in  accumulating  experience 
with  the  ways  of  men  in  love,  having  received,  it  was 
authoritatively  reported,  numberless  offers  of  mar- 
riage any  one  of  which  would  probably  have  been 
preferable  to  her  ultimate  choice.  Yes,  Eleanor  was 
too  thoroughly  seasoned  not  to  know  what  was  hap- 
pening; by  this  time,  she  could  not  pretend  that  Mr. 
Devitt  sought  her  because  of  an  insatiable  interest  in 
her  work,  or  that  she  was  allowing  him  to,  because  of 
an  insatiable  interest  in  his.  She  might  tell  herself 
all  she  chose  about  not  wanting  to  bore  him  by  talk- 
ing his  shop  or  her  own,  she  was  entirely  aware  that 
philanthropies,  social  regeneration,  the  rights  of  man, 
the  menace  of  class,  and  all  the  rest  of  it  were  the 
last  subjects  in  the  world  they  thought  of  in  each 
other's  company !  She  was  not  vain,  not  sensual ;  if 
any  one  had  told  her  that  the  spectacle  of  this  pictur- 
esque young  man  —  who  was  also  a  man  of  mark  — 
helplessly  following  her  about,  unable  to  look  at  her 
without  entreaty,  ready,  as  the  phrase  goes,  to  lie 
down  and  let  her  walk  over  him  —  if  any  one  had  told 
her  that  this  spectacle  subtly  flattered  her,  or  ap- 
pealed as  subtly  to  other  senses,  Eleanor  would  have 
been  justly  indignant.     And  yet  — ! 

Even  when  the  officials  of  such  labour  organisations 
as  the  Federated  Teamsters  began  their  activities 
among  the  ice-men,  activities  of  which  the  outcome 
was  the  main  topic  of  conversation  with  the  worried 
housekeepers  of  Poplar  Street,  Eleanor  did  not  once 
bring  the  matter  up  with  the  one  person  who  was 
in  a  position  to  give  her  authentic  information.     T. 


BEEAD  AND  CIECUSES  349 

Chauncey  must  have  known  all  there  was  to  know 
about  the  facts  and  arguments  on  both  sides ;  he  was, 
naturally,  in  the  thick  of  it,  present  at  every  confer- 
ence, constantly  interviewing  or  being  interviewed. 
One  would  have  supposed  that  Eleanor  would  jump 
at  this  rare  chance  for  education,  for  enlightenment, 
for  acquiring  that  priceless  thing,  the  point  of  view. 
She  did  nothing  of  the  sort  I  It  was  not  that  she 
doubted  Mr.  Devitt's  aims  or  motives,  or  the  high 
quality  of  his  spirit  and  intelligence  —  oh,  no  I  But 
she  confessed  to  herself  with  a  great  effect  of  frank- 
ness a  fear  that,  like  most  reformers,  he  was  not  prac- 
tical. His  dreams  were  beautiful,  they  were  noble, 
they  corresponded  to  his  voice  and  appearance  —  but 
they  were  dreams.  They  distorted  his  vision  of  reali- 
ties. Take  this  very  business  of  the  ice-men  and  their 
projected  strike :  whatever  Mr.  Devitt  thought,  it  was 
impossible  to  believe  that  Mr.  Loring  ever  oppressed 
anybody ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  there  was  Tom  More- 
head  to  whom,  Eleanor  thought  in  exasperation,  a 
little  oppression  might  do  a  world  of  good  I  Tom  had 
been  backsliding  again  lately.  Perhaps  neither  one 
of  these  men  fairly  represented  his  class,  but  if  that 
were  the  case,  the  futility,  the  actual  injustice  of 
generalising  about  them  became  more  apparent  —  to 
her,  at  least ;  Mr.  Devitt,  ^dth  his  eyes  lifted  up  to  the 
hills,  saw  nothing  in  between  I  And  there  was  an- 
other aspect  of  the  question  which  it  seemed  strange 
the  labour-leader  should  have  overlooked  —  for  no 
man  so  gTeat-souled  would  have  deliberately  refused 
to  consider  it :  however  greedy  and  selfish  and  despotic 
the  ice-kings,  however  much  they  needed  restraint  and 
discipline,  they  could  never  in  all  their  days  do  their 
fellow-citizens  one-tenth  as  much  harm  as  these  strik- 


350  THE  KUDDER 

ing  employes  could  in  a  single  twenty-four  hours. 
Eleanor  thought  of  the  hospitals,  of  sick  women  in  the 
tenements  she  knew  so  well,  of  the  wilting  babies,  of 
the  children,  hot,  bare-legged,  their  grimy  little  fore- 
heads plastered  with  moist  hair,  gathered  at  the  tail- 
boards of  the  ice-wagons,  of  a  poor  fat  man  she  had 
seen  carried  into  a  drug-store  the  other  day,  his  big 
body  sagging  flabbily  like  a  half-stuffed  sack,  one  of 
the  Samaritans  rushing  to  ring  up  a  doctor,  the  drug- 
store young  clerk  energetically  scooping  handfuls  of 
crushed  ice  out  of  the  freezers  behind  his  soda-water 
counter  and  piling  them  all  over  the  sufferer's  uncon- 
scious head.  Obviously  Mr.  Devitt  did  not  realise 
that  it  was  upon  the  innocent  and  helpless  public  that 
the  penalty  would  fall  most  heavily,  rather  than  upon 
the  ice-manufacturers,  or  he  would  have  started  this 
"  agitation  "  in  winter-time.  But  on  her  reciting  this 
surmise  to  Miss  Schlochtermaier,  the  latter  received 
it  sceptically  —  in  fact,  not  without  impatience. 

"  Oh  my,  Tim  ain't  got  anything  to  say  about  it, 
Mrs.  Loring,"  she  said.  "  He  just  goes  round,  making 
the  speeches  —  he  can  make  first-rate  speeches,  you 
know,  and  I  guess  it  kind  of  stirs  the  men  up  and  keeps 
'em  going.  But  he  ain't  got  any  real  say.  It's  Dalton 
that  runs  'em.  You  can't  tell  me  anything  about  it. 
I  know! ''  said  the  little  old  maid,  jabbing  a  hat-pin 
through  the  crown  of  her  hat  and  through  the  ornate 
wad  of  frizzes  on  top  of  her  head  with  fierce  move- 
ments. "  Dalton's  in  it  for  what  he  can  get  out  of  it 
—  why,  everybody  knows  that  I  Everybody  knows 
Jack  Dalton.  He'd  see  this  whole  to^vTi  frying  in  the 
bad  place,  and  he  wouldn't  give  anybody  a  square  inch 
of  ice  till  he  got  their  last  dollar !  That's  the  kind  lie 
is !     Well,  I  s'pose  we  gotta  stand  it !  "  she  added  with 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  351 

a  pbilosopliical  pessimism.  ^^  neinie's  worried  like 
everything.  It'll  put  his  business  on  the  blink,  not 
having  no  ice  to  keep  the  meat  with,  you  know.  He 
says  you  can't  hardly  keep  it  as  it  is,  with  all  the  ice 
you  can  stuff  in  the  refrig'rator.  I  told  him  why 
didn't  he  stock  up  with  a  lot  of  hams  and  tongues 
and  corn-beef;  people'll  buy  smoked  meat  anyhow,  i 
But  he's  worried.  He  says  trouble  is  if  your  trade 
once  gets  away  from  you,  why  it's  gone!  You  don't 
ever  get  it  back.  Well,  I  know  one  thing!  I'm  go- 
ing to  get  ice  for  my  mother  and  keep  her  comfortable, 
if  I  got  to  pack  it  from  the  factory  on  my  back !  " 

Eleanor  herself  had  not  remembered  the  butchers 
and  greengrocers,  Heinie  and  the  other  Heinies! 
Here  were  more  unfortunates  I  ^^  I  —  I  don't  believe 
Mr.  Devitt  can  know  —  why  don't  some  of  you  that 
have  known  him  so  long  go  and  tell  him  — ?  "  she  ven- 
tured, hesitating.  But  the  other  took  her  up  almost 
snappishly. 

"  'Tain't  Tim  Devitt  at  all,  ain't  I  just  been  telling 
you?     It's  Dalton." 

"  Well,  w^hat  position  has  Mr.  Devitt  got  in  the 
office  then?  "  said  Eleanor,  beginning  to  be  somehow 
irritated  with  Miss  Schlochtermaier  who  icould  keep 
on  harping  on  Dalton;  Eleanor  did  not  want  her  to 
talk  about  Dalton ;  she  wanted  her  to  talk  about  Mr. 
Devitt. 

'^  I  don't  know  I  Dalton's  s'posed  to  be  secretary 
of  the  Federated  Teamsters,  but  I  don't  know  what  he 
does  either,"  said  Hilda  scornfully  unconcerned. 
^'  You  know,  Mrs.  Loring,"  she  went  on  confidentially ; 
"  seeing  that  man  —  Dalton,  I  mean  —  and  how  he 
does  has  kinda  set  me  against  the  whole  union  busi- 
ness.    Maybe  some  of  'em  are  all  right;  but  /  ain't 


352  THE  RUDDER 

ever  needed  to  be  in  no  union,  and  I've  worked  as  hard 
as  any  man  and  made  my  living  same  as  a  man  ever 
since  I  was  fifteen  years  old.  No,  sir!  You  couldn't 
get  me  into  one  of  'em,  not  if  you  was  to  take  and 
prove  to  me  it  would  double  my  saFry.  What  good's 
that  going  to  do  you,  if  you  gotta  pay  out  a  lot  of  it 
in  dues?  S'pose  I'm  going  to  give  up  a  lot  of  my 
good  money  for  some  crook  like  Jack  Dalton  to  live 
on?  'Cause  that's  where  the  dues  goes,  ain't  it?  Not 
for  me!  I  seen  too  much."  She  became  more  confi- 
dential. '' Say,  do  you  know  how  he  does?  Becomes 
into  our  office  —  old  Mr.  Devitt's  office,  you  know  — 
'bout  once  in  every  so  often,  whenever  he  wants  money, 
I  guess,  and  just  regularly  holds  poor  old  Mr.  Devitt 
up !  Yes,  sir !  I've  known  him  to  time  and  again.  / 
wouldn't  give  him  a  cent,  if  /  was  Mr.  Devitt,  but  he's 
scared  Dalton'll  call  his  teamsters  off  and  tie  up  the 
work  for  months  and  months  and  ruin  him  like  they 
done  some  contractors  already.  He  digs  up  every 
time  regular  as  clockwork;  he's  as  good  as  a  bank- 
account  for  Dalton.  Say,  I  feel  sorry  for  the  old 
man.  Irish  are  awfully  funny,  ain't  they?  He  gets 
way  down  in  the  mouth  so  you'd  think  he  was  going  to 
suicide  the  next  minute,  and  then  first  thing  you  know 
he's  way  up  and  all  excited  and  happy  as  can  be! 
He's  mostly  down  though,  nowadays.  But  that's  one 
reason  I  can't  stand  for  the  unions." 

Decidedly,  Eleanor  thought,  Miss  Schlochtermaier, 
industrious,  upright,  self-denying  and  in  the  main  sen- 
sible woman  as  she  was,  could  be  mortally  tiresome  at 
times.  It  was  evident  that  she  really  knew  nothing 
about  the  Teamsters'  Union  or  either  the  older  or 
younger  Mr.  Devitt's  relations  with  it ;  she  merely  felt 
a  bitter  personal  prejudice  against  this  Dalton  man. 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  353 

It  was  probably  justifiable,  Eleanor  admitted  to  her- 
self again  with  a  fine  show  of  frankness  and  impar- 
tiality ;  Dalton,  by  all  accounts,  must  be  a  scoundrel ; 
but  that  was  no  reason  why  the  union  should  be 
saddled  with  his  misdoin^rs.  As  to  Mr.  Chauncey 
Deyitt  taking  his  orders  from  Dalton  —  which  was 
what  the  stenographer  seemed  to  intimate  —  Eleanor 
in  private  disdainfully  refused  to  belieye  any  such 
statement.  It  was  mere  gossip  to  which  their  associa- 
tion lent  a  colour  of  truth  —  an  association  imposed 
on  the  younger  man  by  —  by  —  er  —  by  circum- 
stances, she  somewhat  cloudily  concluded,  and  with- 
out a  doubt  thoroughly  distasteful  to  him.  x\  prac- 
tical man  with  an  eye  to  sordid  details  might  haye 
avoided  it;  but  what  would  you  have?  Mr.  Deyitt 
was  not  practical ;  he  dwelt  on  Olympus. 

"  One  of  their  kinks  is  these  ^  sympathetic  '  strikes," 
pursued  Miss  Schlochtermaier,  oblivious  of  her  com- 
panion's unresponsive  attitude.  "  Because  the  team- 
sters strike,  why  then  the  culvert  and  ditch  workers, 
they  got  to  walk  out  too.  Same  like  if  we  was  all  in 
unions,  I'd  got  to  strike  if  the  scrubwomen  in  our 
building  did,  see?  Can  you  beat  it?  But  the  limit  is 
when  they  tell  you  if  you're  union,  you  can't  work 
with  nothing  but  union  things  —  union-made  hatchets 
and  trowels  and  bricks  and  paint  and  machinery,  ac- 
cording to  what  you  use  in  your  trade,  you  know.  I 
guess  that  sounds  to  you  like  baby-talk,  but  it's  the 
solemn  truth,  and  there's  plenty  of  grown-up  men  that 
stand  up  for  it.  When  Dalton  started  that  stuff  wath 
Mr.  Devitt,  I  just  butted  right  in  —  I  couldn't  help 
it !  '  Well,  gee- whiz ! '  I  says.  ^  What  you  going  to 
do  'bout  the  sand  and  gravel,  Mr.  Devitt?  They  ain't 
union-made.     Here  the  Lord  went  and  put  'em  round 


354  THE  RUDDER 

everywhere  for  anybody  to  use  that  wanted!  What 
do  you  know  about  that,  anyhow,  Mr.  Dalton?  '  says 
I.  '  Looks  like  you  couldn't  ever  get  God  Almighty 
into  your  union !  Maybe  you  don't  want  Him,  though. 
Some  folks  is  awful  choose-y,'  I  says.  Dalton  didn't 
get  mad.  He  just  laughed  and  says :  '  Say,  I'm  real 
scared  of  you,  Miss  Hilda.  You  act  like  you  was  one 
of  these  suffergettes ! '  And  then  he  went  right  ahead, 
and  made  old  Devitt  buy  a  whole  outfit  of  picks  and 
shovels  and  wheelbarrows  and  things  like  that  that 
he  didn't  need  any  more  than  he  needed  another  set 
of  arms  and  legs.  What  he  had  was  good  enough,  only 
it  didn't  come  from  union  concerns,  see?  The  way 
Dalton  put  it  up  to  him  he  couldn't  help  himself ;  but 
all  the  time  he  knew  that  Dalton  was  getting  a  rake-off 
on  every  last  one  of  them  tools,  or  he  wouldn't  have 
lifted  a  finger  about  'em,  union  or  no  union.  That's 
the  way  it  goes  right  along.  Well,  I  don't  know  what 
you  are  going  to  do  about  it !  " 

Eleanor  listened  reluctantly.  It  was  as  if  the 
homely  fabric  of  the  other's  speech  were  woven  upon 
some  stout  warp  of  common-sense  and  right-minded- 
ness, nearly  resembling  that  which  underlay  the  talk 
of  old  Amzi  Loring,  of  Mr.  Kendrick,  even  of  so  im- 
measurably different  a  person  as  her  uncle,  Marshall 
Cook.  As  with  them,  it  annoyed,  it  somehow^  ob- 
scurely dismayed  her  to  find  that  she  could  not  think 
of  anything  equally  plain  and  reasonable  sounding 
to  bring  forward  on  the  opposite  side.  Of  course 
neither  party  w^as  wholly  right  or  wholly  w^rong. 
When  so  many  masters  abused  their  power,  it  was 
natural  that  abuses  should  have  crept  into  the  man- 
agement of  the  men's  affairs,  too.  Such  anecdotes 
as  Miss  Schlochtermaier's  proved  it;  and  w^hat  Eleanor 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  355 

would  have  liked  would  have  been,  not  an  ar^iment, 
but  the  same  species  of  anecdote  to  offer  in  rebuttal. 
But  she  could  not  remember  any ;  she  had  never  heard 
any  as  apt  and  pjointedl  The  truth  was  that  every- 
thing she  had  encountered  in  newspapers,  pamphlets 
and  magazines  in  the  shape  of  printed  utterances  from 
the  apostles  of  Labour  had  seemed  to  her  against  her 
will  to  be  incendiary  rubbish.  To  be  sure  she  had 
not  yet  read  anything  of  Mr.  Devitt's;  somehow  she 
did  not  want  to;  he  was  so  impractical.  It  was  a 
pity.  If  he  could  only  possess  —  for  righteous  ends 
—  a  tithe  of  Dalton's  deadly  efficiency  — !  But  ap- 
parently he  was  not  always  able  even  to  protect  his 
father  against  it. 

Now  the  mercury  began  again  to  climb  steadily; 
and  simultaneously  a  returning  tide  of  disquieting 
news  about  the  ice-situation  rose  and  rose.  Meetings 
were  held;  various  compromises  were  suggested,  as 
that  the  ice  be  still  delivered  on  Sundays,  but  the 
men  work  in  shifts;  the  Associated  Charities  pub- 
lished a  letter  of  appeal  to  both  sides ;  all  the  doctors 
in  town  signed  another;  the  editors  unanimously 
hedged  (the  typesetters  being  very  strongly  organised) 
so  that,  as  Mr.  Kendrick  observed  with  grim  amuse- 
ment, it  would  have  taken  a  Philadelphia  lawyer  to 
tell  which  party  any  newspaper  in  town  supported. 
Mr.  Loring,  representing  the  manufacturers  —  indeed 
he  was  regarded  by  the  labour-leaders  as  the  very  head 
and  front  of  the  opposition  and  it  was  against  him 
that  their  ftilminations  were  mainly  directed  —  stub- 
bornly refused  to  recognise  the  union ;  the  union  there- 
upon refused  to  submit  the  matter  to  arbitration;  it 
was  a  deadlock. 

As  a  piece  of  news  all  this  was  welcomed  with  rap- 


356  THE  EUDDER 

ture  from  clay  to  day  by  journalists  all  over  the  coun- 
try; for  these  events  took  place  a  year  or  so  before 
that  famous  date  when  the  German  siege-guns  opened 
on  the  forts  at  Liege,  and  in  those  remote  days,  in 
the  dead  of  summer  it  was  likely  to  be  a  dull  and  try- 
ing business  to  get  the  columns  filled.  The  ice-strike 
crowded  even  the  sporting  gossip  from  the  front  page, 
so  that  it  was  quite  casually  that  one  learned  that  the 
Black  Sox,  assisted  by  native  Ohio  talent  in  the  person 
of  that  incomparable  left-fielder  and  all-around  athlete 
Butch  Loring,  would  be  in  town  next  week  for  a  series 
of  four  games,  one  of  them  a  double-header.  As  to 
"  Society  Jottings,"  scarcely  anybody  troubled  to  read 
that  department  of  the  Ohserver.  All  the  world  not 
already  at  the  seashore  or  the  mountains  was  hurry- 
ing to  get  away  before  the  lack  of  ice  was  added  to 
the  discomforts  of  a  Middle-Western  July ;  one  noted, 
however,  that  the  Andrew  J.  Grace  ladies  had  not 
gone  yet,  and  —  by  another  of  those  coincidences  with 
which  this  chapter  has  been  so  occupied  —  Marshall 
Cook,  the  well-known  author,  was  expected  to  arrive 
Monday  for  a  short  visit. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  last  ice-wagons  went  their  rounds  late 
Monday  afternoon,  their  crews  benevolently 
urging  everybody  to  "  stock  u^^  with  ice  all 
they  could  " ;  and  Tuesday  morning  dawned  scarcely 
hotter  than  the  stifling  night  preceding  it,  but  piti- 
lessly bright.  The  union-leaders  were  as  good  as 
their  word;  not  an  ice-man  was  visible  or  audible  — 
professionally,  that  is.  There  were  doubtless  num- 
bers of  them  upholding  this  spirited  stand  against 
tyranny  by  loafing  about  the  streets,  the  saloons,  the 
moving-picture  theatres,  or  perhaps  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  ice-factories.  Tom  Morehead  was  at  home 
drunk,  rather  luckily  for  him,  as  it  enabled  him  to  prove 
an  alibi  later  when  there  was  a  question  raised  as  to 
the  personnel  of  the  crowd  that  collected  out  at  Elm- 
wood,  when  Mr.  Loring's  arm  was  broken  by  a  stone 
thrown  through  the  office-window.  The  city,  how- 
ever, was  not  altogether  ice-less;  housekeepers  heard 
with  relief  qualified  by  a  new  dread  that  the  factories 
would  keep  on  producing  ice  as  long  as  their  engineers 
did  not  walk  out  ^'  sympathetically  '■ ;  so,  for  a  while 
at  least,  the  problem  was  merely  how  to  get  it  trans- 
ported. Thereupon  the  streets  all  at  once  swarmed 
with  automobiles,  elegant  little  electric  coupes,  road- 
worn  runabouts,  limousines,  touring-cars  new  and  old, 
with  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  horse-drawn  vehicles, 
from  broughams  and  barouches  to  jolt-wagons,  every 
one  carrying  its  block  of  ice  swathed  in  old  carpets, 
quilts,  newspapers,  anything  to  keep  the  invaluable 

357 


358  THE  RUDDER 


freight  from  leaking  off  before  it  reached  the  refrigera- 
tor ;  in  a  day  or  two  these  sights  became  too  common 
to  be  noticed.  Even  the  goat-carts,  wheelbarrows, 
baby-carriages  and  bicycles  that  were  presently 
pressed  into  service  especially  in  the  cheaper  quarters 
of  the  city,  even  the  men  laboriously  bearing  a  chunk 
on  their  shoulders  and  squirming  as  the  water  trickled 
down  their  backs,  even  the  women  struggling  along 
with  a  poor  five  cents'  worth  in  a  market-basket  or  a 
net  bag  —  even  these  ceased  to  draw  a  passing  glance. 
It  was  astounding  how^  readily  and  resourcefully  the 
public  met  the  emergency ;  astounding  the  good-nature 
with  which  it  bore  a  hardship  which  was  entirely  un- 
necessary and  undeserved.  The  visitor  from  Mars 
about  whose  possible  opinions  we  occasionally  hear 
a  discussion,  could  not  have  been  shown  a  spectacle 
more  tj^pically  American. 

"  Tell  you  what,  though,  it  ain't  going  to  last  this 
way,''  Homer  confided  to  Eleanor  in  the  course  of  a 
business  conference.  Homer  had  purveyed  himself  a 
soap-box  mounted  on  a  dismembered  pair  of  roller- 
skates,  with  which  he  was  carrying  on  a  thriving  trade 
delivering  ice  at  "  two  cents  a  throw  "  in  small  lots  up 
and  down  Poplar  Street  and  the  vicinity ;  and  Eleanor 
had  engaged  him  on  the  above  terms  to  take  a  lump  to 
a  sick  woman  on  the  third  floor  of  Fifty -two  Amelia 
just  around  the  corner.  "  It  won't  last,  'cause  it's 
too  easy,"  said  Homer  sagely.  "  First  thing  you  know 
nobody'll  care  whether  there's  any  ice-men  or  not; 
everybody's  getting  ice  somehow  right  along.  The 
strikers  know  they  gotta  think  up  something  else,  and 
they'll  do  it  direckly.  Like  calling  out  the  engineers 
or  something.  I  guess  the  only  reason  they  ain't  done 
that  already  is  they  gotta  make  a  deal  with  'em.     The 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  359 

bosses  of  the  engineers^  union  ain't  going  to  start  no 
sympathy  strike  without  there's  something  in  it  for 
them  —'' 

^'  Where  are  you  getting  your  ice?  "  Eleanor  inter- 
rupted hastily.  She  did  not  care  to  hear  any  more  of 
Homer's  appallingly  shrewd-sounding  comments,  as- 
suring herself  vehemently  that  Mr.  Devitt  would  never 
lend  himself  to  any  bargaining  such  as  the  boy  in- 
timated. 

'^  Engine-house.  Only  they  won't  sell  you  none 
after  'leven  'clock,  so  you  gotta  hustle.  Stand  in 
line,  of  course,  after  you  get  there,''  said  Homer,  pre- 
paring to  hustle,  as  aforesaid.  Eleanor,  in  the  spirit 
of  curiosity,  accompanied  him. 

"  How  do  the]}  happen  to  have  it?  "  she  wondered. 

Homer  couldn't  say.  All  he  knew  was  that  you 
could  get  it  there.  They  just  knocked  off  a  chunk 
anyhow  with  a  mallet  and  chisel,  so  sometimes  vou  got 
a  good  big  lump  for  your  nickel,  and  sometimes  hardly 
nothing.     ^'  You  gotta  pay  just  the  same.     Ice  is  ice.'' 

Approaching  the  engine-house  they  found  the  street 
lively  as  an  ant-hill  with  ice-buyers  —  a  coloured  man 
with  a  lump  perched  on  top  of  a  wash-basket  full  of 
soiled  clothes  and  guyed  in  position  Tvith  string;  two 
young  girls  giggling  along  with  a  piece  in  a  coal- 
scuttle ;  a  man  shoving  a  block  onto  the  rear  platform 
of  the  street-car  amidst  the  free  raillery  of  the  pas- 
sengers thereon ;  another  man  trundling  his  supply  in 
a  keg;  a  haggard  woman  with  a  dishpan.  The  wide 
doorway  was  almost  blocked  with  marketers,  not 
standing  in  line  as  Homer  had  described  them,  but 
camped  about  everywhere,  and  frenziedly  dodging  and 
elbowing  and  edging  to  the  front  at  every  chance,  in 
spite  of  the  efforts  of  the  policeman  stationed  there  to 


360  THE  RUDDER 

keep  them  in  order.  "  No  liurry  now,  folks,  no  hurry ! 
First  come,  first  served,  of  course,  as  long  as  she  last. 
If  you  don't  get  none  to-day,  that'll  learn  you  to  get 
up  a  little  earlier  to-morrow.  Here,  you  boy,  you  go 
back  there  where  you  belong!  I  saiv  you,  now! 
Look  out,  lady,  that  coloured  lady's  ahead  of  you! 
Well  now,  ma'am,  I  can't  help  if  if  she  got  here  first. 
No,  mister,  I  can't  go  in  there  and  get  it  for  you. 
No,  I  can't  speak  to  the  cap  nor  nobody  — "  this  was 
the  burden  of  his  oratory,  reiterated  incessantly. 

Notwithstanding  his  vigilance,  Homer  skilfully  in- 
serted himself  among  the  first  ranks,  whence  he  sent 
a  grin  and  wink  to  Eleanor  standing  out  of  the  crowd 
on  the  opposite  sidewalk.  She  could  see  a  pair  of 
shirt-sleeved  men  going  to  and  fro  under  the  gleaming 
paint  and  polish  of  the  engine  and  the  yawning  horse- 
collars  ;  above  two  or  three  firemen  lounged  in  the  win- 
dows, looking  clown  unconcernedly.  The  people  jostled 
one  another  on  the  cobbles,  some  of  them  weary  and 
glum,  some  making  a  frolic  of  it,  one  man  indifferently 
settled  on  the  handles  of  his  wheelbarrow,  reading 
the  morning  newspaper  in  the  middle  of  the  car-tracks. 
It  was  glaringly  hot;  the  heat  seemed  to  come  up  in 
waves  laden  with  odours  of  manure,  garbage  and 
sweating  bodies.  Presently  the  crowd  swayed  and 
scattered,  as  a  trolley-car  stalked  by  two  automobiles 
clanged  around  the  angle  at  the  head  of  the  street ;  the 
man  on  the  wheelbarrow  looked  up,  folded  his  paper 
with  deliberation  unmoved  by  a  dozen  wildly  screeched 
warnings,  and  withdrew  himself  and  his  equipage  at 
the  same  leisurely  pace  in  the  exact  nick  of  time. 

"  Look  who's  here,  Timmie !  "  one  of  the  occupants 
of  the  first  automobile  gTunted,  removing  his  big  cigar ; 
he  had  quick  light  eyes  that  roamed  everywhere  and 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  3G1 

saw  everything  in  a  second,  and  he  burst  into  a  thick 
chuckle  at  the  expression  of  his  companion's  face  when 
the  latter,  following  his  advice,  caught  sight  of  the 
tall  woman  on  the  sidewalk.  ^'  By  —  I  Slie  sure  has 
got  the  figure !  - '  added  Mr.  Daltou  with  admiring  pro- 
fanity. 

He  laughed  again  as  the  young  fellow  without  a 
word  to  him  jumped  out  of  the  car  and  shouldered  im- 
patiently through  the  crowd.  Chauncey  had  reached 
a  stage  where  he  didn't  give  a  damn  who  knew  it  or 
what  they  thought,  his  patron  remarked  inwardly  with 
the  amused  and  contemptuous  sympathy  which  —  we 
are  told  —  all  the  world  feels  for  a  lover,  balanced  by 
a  complimentary  approval  of  Chauncey's  taste.  She 
was  not  only  pretty  but  tolerably  certain  to  be  ex- 
pensive, in  Mr.  Dalton's  opinion;  Tim  wasn't  any 
piker,  anyhow  I 

Eleanor  had  caught  sight  of  Dalton,  too,  with  her 
familiar  prick  of  rej^ugnance ;  it  is  not  easy  to  under- 
stand how  she  contrived  immediately  to  put  him  and 
his  manifestly  close  relations  with  the  other,  out  of 
her  mind  as  Chauncey  took  her  hand.  There  was  a 
good  deal  of  staring  and  nudging,  and  talk  rumbled 
briskly  behind  him.  She  was  vexed  to  feel  the  colour 
coming  up  to  her  face ;  it  always  showed  so  I  And  in 
fact,  she  could  see  his  eyes  following  it  avidly. 

"  Mrs.  LoringI     What  are  you  doing  here?  " 

Eleanor  managed  a  laugh  to  keep  herself  in  coun- 
tenance. "  Doing?  Why,  what  should  I  be  doing? 
Getting  ice,  to  be  sure !  " 

^'Yoii!''  Chauncey  was  so  openly  horrified,  look- 
ing all  around  her  meanwhile  for  the  pan,  bucket, 
basket  or  what-not  in  which  he  conceived  she  must  be 
meaning  to  convey  it  away,  that  Eleanor  laughed  out 


362  THE  KUDDER 

genuinely  enough  this  time.  It  almost  restored  her 
self-possession  to  obsei^v-e  him  so  ingenuously  lacking 
it. 

"  Don't  look  so  shocked !  The  Morehead  boy's  get- 
ting it  for  me." 

''  Oh  I     But  jou  —  do  you  — ?  " 

"  No,  it's  not  for  myself.  It's  for  one  of  my  poor 
people." 

''  Oh !  Still,  you  —  you  ought  not  to  be  here,"  said 
Chauncey,  not  trying  to  subdue  the  note  of  tender 
authority  in  his  voice.  "  You  ought  not  to  be  going 
around  in  this  heat.     You  will  make  yourself  sick  — " 

"  Fiddle-de-dee !  —  Begging  your  pardon,  Mr.  De- 
vitt!  Do  I  look  sick?"  retorted  Eleanor  with  a  des- 
perate aping  of  her  natural  spirit.  But  she  could  not 
meet  the  young  man's  eyes ;  she  looked  casually  up  and 
down  the  street,  rallying  her  forces  —  sparring  for 
time,  Mr.  Dalton  would  have  expressed  it!  That 
gentleman  in  apparent  —  perhaps  actual  —  forgetful- 
ness  of  his  associate,  was  leaning  over  the  side  of  the 
automobile,  in  close  converse  with  the  chief  of  the 
fire-company;  the  street-car  had  gone;  the  ice-market 
had  resumed  its  activities,  blocking  the  w^ay  of  the 
other  automobile  yonder.  All  around  were  the  same 
gross  sights,  sounds,  smells,  yet  Arcadia  bloomed  on 
Amelia  Street,  and  possibly  those  who,  too,  have  abode 
there  some  little  while,  can  comprehend  the  miracle. 

"  You  look  like  an  angel  —  you  are  an  angel !  " 
Chauncey  w^as  saying  fervidly  under  his  breath.  "  I 
can't  bear  to  see  you  in  this  i3lace.  You  weren't  made 
for  things  like  this.     Promise  me  you  — " 

And  all  the  while  the  second  automobile,  cornered  in 
the  rear  of  Dalton's,  after  a  persuasive  honk  or  two, 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  363 

was  politely  awaiting  his  pleasure.  "  I  believe  you 
had  better  shut  down  the  engine,  Garvin/'  the  little 
fair  lady  in  the  back  ordered  her  chauffeur  at  last. 
"  We  can't  move  a  step.  The  policeman  must  have 
told  that  man  ahead  to  stop ;  at  least  he  doesn't  seem 
to  have  any  idea  of  going  on." 

The  man  beside  her  laughed.  "  Oh,  innocence ! 
Oh,  simplicity !  That  plug-ugly  is  not  of  those  feeble 
mortals  who  are  halted  by  policemen.  He's  a  leader 
of  hundreds.  He  says  to  the  cop :  ^  Go  I '  and  the 
cop  goeth  I  ^  Come ! '  and  he  cometh !  That's  Dal- 
ton." 

"Dalton?" 

^^  Yes.  Don't  tell  me  you  don't  know  who  the  gang- 
leaders  in  your  own  town  are!  Don't  tell  me  you 
don't  read  your  own  newspapers  I  Dalton's  the  busi- 
ness-agent for  these  striking  teamsters,  the  ones  that 
are  making  all  the  trouble  with  the  ice-dealers,  you 
know.  Once  he  was  a  ward  boss  —  may  be  still,  for 
what  I  know  —  but  I  daresay  this  pays  better.  I  met 
him  one  time  years  ago,  and  I've  never  forgotten  him 
—  he's  not  the  sort  of  person  one  forgets.'' 

"Mr.  Cook,  I  think  you  have  met  everybody! 
*  Business-agent ' !  What  a  beautifully  descriptive 
term !  " 

"  And  how  accurate !  Here  we  are,  you  observe, 
precisely  like  everybody  else,  standing  round  waiting 
his  orders.  If  that  isn't  getting  results,  if  that  isn't 
good  business,  what  is?  " 

"  We  could  get  out  and  walk  to  your  niece's  —  it's 
only  a  square  —  and  have  Garvin  come  after  us — " 
His  exclamation  interrupted  her.  "  What  is  it? 
W^here,  did  you  say?     Oh!  '^ 


364  THE  RUDDER 

They  both  stared  a  moment  silently.  "I  wonder 
who  tiie  young  man  is/'  Miss  Grace  was  saying,  just 
as  Eleanor's  glance  reached  them. 

Amelia  Street  displaced  Arcadia  with  magic-lan- 
tern celerity  as  she  waved  and  nodded  and  smiled 
signals  of  welcome.  Whatever  Chauncey  felt,  Eleanor 
regained  common-sense  and  composure  with  actual 
relief,  though  mingled  with  her  sincere  delight  at  see- 
ing her  uncle  there  was  a  slight  uneasiness.  He  al- 
ways saw  so  much;  what  had  he  seen  just  now? 
Psiiaw,  there  had  been  nothing  to  see  —  nor  to  hear 
either!  Mr.  Devitt  had  an  exaggerated  way  of  talk- 
ing sometimes,  that  was  all ;  it  was  the  Irish  strain  in 
him.  Uncle  Marshall  would  understand  that;  it 
would  interest  him.  And  wasn't  he  with  Miss  Grace, 
anyhow,  thought  Eleanor  with  sudden  satisfaction  not 
untinged  with  malice.  Tit  for  tat!  Uncle  Marshall 
couldn't  say  anything,  she  thought  —  and  then  burned 
with  inward  shame.  She  was  acting  like  a  schoolgirl 
—  and  worse !  She  saw  Miss  Grace  lay  a  detaining 
hand  on  his  arm  just  as  her  uncle  was  opening  the 
carriage-door.  They  spoke  together  for  a  minute,  and 
Miss  Grace  sent  Eleanor  her  doll-like  smile  over  his 
shoulder  as  she  finally  let  him  go.  Something  about 
this  little  intimate  scene  set  the  younger  woman  on 
her  guard;  she  wished  there  had  been  some  way  of 
hinting  to  Mr.  Devitt  that  it  would  be  the  part  of 
social  prudence  for  him  to  take  an  unhurried  and 
graceful  leave  of  her.  No  such  idea  had  entered  his 
head ;  on  the  contrary,  there  he  stood,  hatless  in  the 
broiling  sun,  looking  noble  and  devoted,  not  in  the 
least  awkward,  not  in  the  least  embarrassed  as  a 
man  with  more  worldly  training  certainly  would  have 
been.     And  now  here  was  her  uncle,  cordial,  kind, 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  3G5 

sliarp-ejed,  discreet,  "  horribly  humane ''  and  tactful 
as  ever,  clasping  both  her  hands,  recognising  Mr. 
Devitt  with  his  unfailing  courtesy,  saying  just  the  right 
thing,  looking  just  the  right  way,  absolutely  the  most 
comfortable  companion  on  earth.  Warm  affection 
overcame  her.  How  glad  she  was  to  see  him  again! 
"  Well,  it's  very  nice  to  hear  you  say  that,  Eleanor ; 
and  it's  very  nice,  too,  to  see  you  looking  so  well. 
The  weather  seems  to  agree  with  vou  —  whv,  onlv  a 
few  days,  as  usual,  till  next  week,  perhaps.  I'm 
thinking  of  going  out  to  the  Yellowstone,  didn't  I 
write  you?     I'll  i)robably  stop  again  on  my  way  back 

—  but  the  fact  is  the  house  isn't  the  same  without 
you  there.     Xell,  I  miss  you  all  the  time  — " 

"  Uncle  Marshall,  dotit!  I'll  begin  to  weep  out 
loud  here  on  the  street  — '' 

^'  She  won't,  Mr.  De\4tt,  don't  be  alarmed  I  "  said 
Cook,  glancing  into  the  other's  concerned  face  with  a 
laugh.  "  She  wouldn't  do  anything  like  that  in  pub- 
lic for  worlds.  And  besides,  she's  really  as  hard  as 
nails  —  no  family  sentiment  about  her  I '' 

"  I  cannot  believe  that,  Mr.  Cook,"  said  Chauncey, 
in  his  deep,  mellow  voice.  "  I,  who  have  seen  her  in 
these  humble  homes,  ministering  at  the  bedside  of 
suffering  and  poverty,  I  Jaioic  her  for  what  she  is!^^ 

"  Oh  —  er  —  quite  so !  "  said  Cook,  after  an  infin- 
itesimal pause.  He  coughed,  occuj^ying  himself  with 
his  eyeglasses.  "  As  I  was  about  to  say,  when  I  went 
to  call  on  Miss  Grace  and  she  found  out  my  forlorn 
state  of  mind  —  the  bereaved  uncle,  you  understand 

—  why,  she  insisted  most  kindly  on  bringing  me  down 
here  to  see  Mrs.  Loring.  We  couldn't  telephone  you 
and  give  notice,  Eleanor.  The  Moreheads  aren't  in 
the  book." 


366  THE  KUDDER 

"  Mercy,  no  I  People  generally  catch  me  at  the 
Charities.'' 

^'  She  wanted  to  see  you  herself,  anyhow.  And  — 
ah  —  Mr.  Devitt,  when  I  told  Miss  Grace  who  you 
were  just  now,  she  —  ahem !  —  she  expressed  a  great 
desire  to  make  your  acquaintance,"  said  the  little  man, 
in  so  unnaturally  elaborate  a  style  that  his  niece  shot 
him  a  suspicious  glance.  Imj)ossible  to  read  any- 
thing but  ordinary  civil  solicitude  in  his  face,  never- 
theless Eleanor  wondered  restlessly  what  they  were 
up  to,  he  and  Miss  Grace.  She  feared  the  Greeks  and 
their  gifts,  not  without  reason,  perhaps.  Again,  she 
longed  to  warn  Mr.  Devitt;  he  was  so  simple,  so 
earnest,  so  serious,  his  own  life  had  been  so  hard,  that 
he  might  not  at  once  understand  these  people  with 
their  assumption  of  inveterate  levity.  Their  curiosity 
was  not  a  compliment,  he  might  even  find  it  an  offence. 
Then  she  remembered  with  an  odd  gratification  that 
after  all  this  sort  of  thing  could  be  nothing  new  to 
him;  in  his  public  life  he  must  meet  with  it  as  con- 
stantly as  her  uncle  himself,  and  very  likely  Mr. 
Devitt  shared  the  latter's  humorously  philosophical 
views. 

At  any  rate,  he  was  at  no  visible  disadvantage  as  he 
went  over  and  was  presented  to  Miss  Grace;  he  was 
easily  the  most  dignified  and  striking  figure  in  the 
group.  Miss  Grace  was  beckoning  her.  "  Dinner  at 
eight,"  she  said  as  Eleanor  joined  them.  "  At  eight, 
Mr.  Devitt,  don't  fail  us."  She  addressed  her  smile 
to  Eleanor.  "  I  wanted  to  ask  you  to  dine  with  us  to- 
morrow night,  Mrs.  Loring,  and  I've  persuaded  Mr. 
Devitt  to  forget  all  about  formalities  and  come  too. 
Just  ourselves  and  Mr.  Cook,  you  know.  Nobody's 
in  town,  and  it's  too  hot  to  bother  about  being  stiff 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  3G7 

and  conventional,  don't  jou  think?  May  I  send  the 
car  for  you?     It's  suck  a  trip  to  the  North  Ilill." 

Decidedly  they  were  up  to  something!  But  Mr. 
Devitt  had  already  accepted;  and  what  if  the  two  — 
or  Bessie  Grace,  for  Eleanor  lo3'ally  acquitted  her 
uncle  of  anything  beyond  a  good-natured  mischievous- 
ness  —  were  as  guileful  as  serpents  while  seeming 
harmless  as  doves?  What  if  they  were?  She  and 
Mr.  Devitt  were  quite  capable  of  taking  care  of  them- 
selves, Eleanor  thought,  piqued.  By  way  of  demon- 
strating this  fact,  she  matched  her  smile  and  the  can- 
didly pleased  inflections  of  her  voice  to  Miss  Grace's 
with  finished  nicety.  "  Why,  that  will  be  lovely !  So 
delighted  to  come !     At  eight  o'clock,  did  you  say?  '' 

"  Yes.  I'm  going  to  have  a  lavish  supply  of  iced 
things,  Mr.  Devitt,  just  to  defy  you,"  said  Bessie, 
audaciously.  "  There's  a  man  in  our  cellar  who 
presses  buttons,  or  turns  handles  or  does  something 
with  a  machine,  and  presently  we  have  all  the  ice  we 
want!  You  wouldn't  be  so  brutal  as  to  deprive  us  of 
him,  I'm  sure  —  two  helpless  women,  advanced  in 
years.     I'm  not  afraid  of  you,  anyhow." 

"  Our  system  is  not  one  of  intimidation,  Miss 
Grace,"  Chauncey  told  her  gravely. 

"No?"  She  considered  him  with  her  large  infan- 
tile blue  eyes.     ''  Xo.     Of  course  not !  " 

Cook  murmured  something  about  being  thrice- 
armed,  and  appeared  to  have  further  trouble  with  his 
eyeglasses.  There  was  an  instant  of  embarrassment 
w^hich  everybody  felt  except  Chauncey.  Then,  as  luck 
would  have  it,  Homer  created  a  diversion  by  summon- 
ing Eleanor  unceremoniously. 

"  Say,  I  got  yer  ice.  Mis'  Loring.  Where  you  want 
it  took  to?" 


368  THE  KUDDER 

A  neighbouring  clock  boomed  eleven,  and  the  peo- 
ple began  to  disperse.  Dalton  stood  up  in  his  auto- 
mobile, looking  around  and  behind  him  and  discover- 
ing the  others  with  scowling  surprise  at  first ;  then  he 
gi'inned.  Cook  caught  his  eye,  and  performed  an 
impressive  salute. 

^'  May  we  pass,  Mr.  Dalton?  "  he  called  out. 

"  Sure  thing!  "  said  Dalton  obligingly,  trying  to  re- 
member where  he  had  seen  that  little  fellow^  before. 
The  car,  obedient  to  his  orders,  lumbered  over  to  one 
side,  and  let  the  other  go  by. 

"  If  you  took  as  thorough  a  look  at  him  as  he  did 
at  you,  you'll  know  Mr.  Dalton  again,''  Cook  said  to 
Bessie,  half  angry,  half  amused. 

"  I  did  look  at  him.  I  should  rather  like  to  ask  Mm 
to  dinner.     Could  it  be  managed?  " 

'^  What! ''  shouted  Marshall,  outraged.  ''  To  din- 
ner!  To  your  Jiouse!  That  thug!  That  out-and- 
out  blackguard!  That — "  Words  actually  failed 
him  momentarily;  then  he  swallowed,  and  recovered 
himself.  "  You  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about, 
Bessie,"  he  said  severely.     "  The  idea's  monstrous.'' 

^'  Of  course  if  you  don't  think  it  would  do,  Mr. 
Cook  — "  said  Bessie,  looking  down  meekly. 

''Do?  Good  Heavens!  Why—"  Marshall 
checked  himself  again.  He  spoke  in  a  different  tone, 
hurriedly.  "I  —  I  don't  mean  to  dictate,  of  course. 
I  have  no  business  —  it  was  only  that  you  didn't  seem 
to  realise  —  I  —  I  beg  your  pardon."  He  got  very 
red  and  tried  to  laugh.  "  I  didn't  mean  to  speak  to 
you  —  your  first  name,  you  know  —  I  didn't  mean  — 
it  slipped  out.     Miss  Grace,  I  apologise  on  my  knees !  " 

"Oh,  I  understand  perfectly.  Don't  feel  so  — it 
was  nice  of  you  to  tell  me.     Really  I  was  just  talking 


BEEAD  AND  CIRCUSES  3G9 

—  I  didn't  mean  anything  except  that  this  Mr.  Bnsi- 
ness-Agent  looks  as  interesting  as  the  other  man,  in  a 
different  way.  Do  you  suppose  they  represent  two 
different  forces  in  the  labour  organisations?  " 

"  If  they  do,  I  think  I'd  back  Dalton  against  De- 
vitt,''  said  the  author.  "  I  don't  know  what  to  jnake 
of  that  young  man.  Whereas  he  who  runs  may  read 
Dalton.  What  an  extraordinary  set  they  seem  to  be ! 
As  if  putting  all  those  poor  people  we  saw  back  there 
to  this  trouble,  and  anxiety,  and  loss  of  time  and 
money,  and  actual  distress  —  as  if  that  served  anv 
earthly  good  end!  ^  Intimidation  \f  ^'^  He  chuckled 
with  relish.  "  Throwing  stones  at  old  Loring  is  not 
an  effort  at  intimidation  —  oh  no!  It's  moral  sua- 
sion I  " 

^^  Maybe  Mr.  Devitt  didn't  know  anything  about 
that,  or  he  might  have  prevented  it." 

''  Maybe." 

"  Mrs.  Loring  seems  to  know  him  very  well." 

"  Yes,  she  does,"  said  Cook  thoughtfully. 

"  It  will  be  interesting  if  we  can  get  her  to  draw 
him  out." 

"  Yes,"  said  Cook  again,  but  with  so  abstracted  an 
air,  twirling  the  point  of  his  close-clipped  beard,  that 
Miss  Grace  discreetly  changed  the  subject. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

NOTWITHSTANDING  Homer's  reasonable 
expectations,  the  strikers'  plan  of  campaign 
remained  unchanged  to  all  appearances 
throughout  that  day  and  the  next,  though  their  lead- 
ers circulated  in  automobiles  from  factory  to  factory, 
and  more  conferences  were  held.  Mr.  Loring  stood 
by  his  guns,  the  engineers  stuck  to  their  posts,  the  com- 
munity patiently  suffered  or  patiently  devised  means 
to  overcome  the  discomforts  of  the  situation.  A  break 
in  the  weather,  Homer's  fellow-cynics  pointed  out, 
would  almost  certainly  bring  matters  to  a  crisis,  but 
nothing  of  the  kind  was  in  prospect,  according  to  the 
Bureau.  With  July  in  full  swing,  the  deadening  heat 
might  continue  for  two  weeks,  which  would  give  the 
labour  generals  ample  time  to  formulate  and  carry  out 
whatever  scheme  they  had  "  up  their  sleeve." 

But  it  was  little  that  one  labour-leader,  at  least, 
recked  of  all  this  during  that  twenty-four  hours !  T. 
Chauncey  Devitt,  that  friend  of  the  toiling  masses, 
that  fearlessly  eloquent  champion  of  the  Rights  of 
Labour,  was  going  about  with  his  head  in  the  clouds. 
To  do  him  justice,  the  young  man  was  quite  invulner- 
able to  whatever  attractions  wealth,  social  distinc- 
tion, literary  eminence  and  so  on,  the  society  of  Miss 
Grace  and  Mr.  Cook  might  be  supposed  to  exert ;  was 
he  not  T.  Chauncey  Devitt?  He  valued  this  dinner 
invitation  only  because  he  fondly  believed  it  would 
give  him  the  opportunity  he  longed  for,  he  ached  and 
prayed  for,  of  seeing  his  lady  alone,  of  having  her  to 

370 


BREAD  AND  CIECUSES  371 

himself  for  a  blessed  moment.  There  would  surely 
be  some  stairway,  some  alcove,  some  corner  of  a  moon- 
lit terrace  —  his  breath  came  quick.  At  last  I  After 
his  fashion  he  staged  in  fancy  a  hundred  scenes  with 
her,  away  from  this  shabby  environment  of  Poplar 
Street,  in  the  setting  that  became  her  —  and  also,  he 
imagined,  became  himself.  After  to-night,  what 
might  not  happen?  As  he  dressed,  his  clean  little 
room  wath  the  lace  curtains  sweeping  the  floor,  with 
the  pink  conch-shells  on  the  hearth,  the  bog-oak  cruci- 
fix over  the  bed,  the  crocheted  tidies  and  pincushion, 
the  chromo  of  the  Virgin  displaying  her  Sacred  Heart 
that  he  had  won  for  first  prize  in  the  rhetoric  class  at 
Saint  Xavier's  when  he  was  thirteen  years  old  —  this 
chaste,  bourgeois  interior  that  his  mother  tended  with 
such  passionate  devotion,  expanded  into  a  gilded 
apartment  the  mere  description  of  which  with  all  its 
scandalous  implications  would  have  taken  Norah's 
breath  away.  He  sang,  he  whistled,  he  smiled  at  him- 
self in  the  glass,  boyishly  vain  of  the  slim  elegance  of 
his  own  figure  in  evening  dress,  pleased  with  the  fine 
lines  of  his  white  waistcoat  that  Xorah  had  done  up 
for  him  with  her  own  hands,  delightedly  horrified  at 
its  cost. 

"  Fourteen  dollars,  no  less,  for  a  bit  of  pique  ye 
couldn't  cut  a  handkerchief  out  of  I  But  why 
shouldn't  the  boy  please  himself?  It's  none  too  good 
for  him !  "  she  said  with  pride  as  she  and  Michael,  sit- 
ting over  their  tea  and  potatoes  and  cold  ham  in  the 
kitchen,  heard  Chauncey  carolling  overhead. 

"  'Tis  all  right  for  them  that  has  the  price,"  said 
her  husband  sourly.  ''I  haven't.  And  I'd  look  at 
fourteen  dollars  a  long  w^hile  before  I'd  blow  it  on  a 
white  vest,  anyhow." 


372  THE  RUDDER 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Mike,  what  would  you  be  do- 
ing with  a  white  vest?  YeVe  no  place  to  w^ear  such 
a  thing.     Our  Chauncey's  different." 

"  To  be  sure !  He's  a  fine  gentleman,  and  look  at 
all  he's  doing  for  the  ice-men,  and  the  rest  of  us,  him 
and  Jack  Dalton!  Jack's  a  neat  dresser,  too.  Ye 
need  fourteen-dollar  vests  when  ye  work  like  they  do. 
Next  thing  the  men'll  have  to  have  'em  too.  Why 
not?  'Tis  a  shame  the  w^ay  we  treat  'em,  hard-fisted, 
bullying  old  skin-flints  like  Mr.  Loring  and  myself  I  " 

Norah  looked  at  him  with  the  distress  and  apprehen- 
sion that  his  black  moods,  though  now  of  almost  daily 
recurrence,  invariably  caused  her.  She  did  not  un- 
derstand his  heavy  irony;  she  only  knew  that  he 
seemed  to  be  angered  over  a  trifle  —  Chauncey's  waist- 
coat !  The  fact,  taken  with  the  rest  of  his  talk  which 
sounded  to  her  quite  wildly  incoherent  and  irrelevant, 
put  into  her  mind  dreadful  doubts  and  fears. 

"What  for  are  ye  talking  about  Mr.  Loring,  Mike? 
Sure,  he  ain't  nothing  like  you,  nor  you  like  him. 
Don't  let  the  thought  of  him  worry  ye.  He  can't  hurt 
Timmie,"  she  said  soothingly.  "  Do  ye  feel  all  right 
the  day?  Your  head  don't  hurt,  does  it?  'Tis  the 
heat;  I'll  fix  ye  something.  Ye  hadn't  ought  to  be 
out  on  the  work  all  day  in  the  sun,  with  them  dizzy 
spells  like  to  come  on  ye  any  minute.  I'll  have  to 
be  getting  after  ye  to  make  ye  mind  yerself  better  — !  " 

"  Oh,  hold  your  tongue,  Norah,  woman,  for  God's 
sake!"  Michael  burst  out  violently,  as  she  got  up 
and  began  to  bustle  about  him.  "  Leave  me  alone  I 
I'm  wanting  nothing,  I  tell  ye !  "  He  pushed  his  wife 
away  impatiently  and  got  up  and  got  his  pipe  and 
went  outside.  A  neighbour  sprawling  on  the  steps 
next  door  in  a  similar  neglige  of  shirtsleeves  and 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  373 

socks  bailed  liim  with  the  inquiry  if  it  was  hot  enough 
for  him,  to  Avhich  Mike  only  responded  with  a  grunt. 
He  sat  sulkily  dumb,  and  the  other  man  presently 
abandoned  the  attempt  at  sociability.  Xorah,  wiping 
her  eyes  and  the  dishes,  noted  with  a  miserable  satis- 
faction that  he  accorded  every  one  the  same  treat- 
ment as  herself;  so  that  outsiders  if  they  chanced  to 
overhear  him  giving  her  the  rough  side  of  his  tongue 
as  he  did  just  now  would  think  little  of  it,  since  noth- 
ing pleased  him  and  nobody  got  a  civil  word  out  of 
him  nowadays. 

Chauncey  came  downstairs  and  paused  in  the  door- 
way, his  tall  and  clean-lined  black-and-white  figure 
looking  ludicrously  out  of  place  in  the  hot  little 
kitchen  tTiat  smelled  perpetually  of  cooking  and  scrub- 
bing. "Hello,  mother!''  he  said  indifferently,  and 
came  in  and  stooped  to  look  over  the  short  white  cur- 
tain at  the  window-sash  just  above  the  sink.  An  au- 
tomobile croaked  outside;  Miss  Grace's  big  car  was 
drawing  up  at  the  opposite  curb.  All  the  children  on 
the  square  congregated  around  it. 

"  Is  it  for  Mrs.  Loring,  I  dinnaw?  "  queried  Xorah 
with  excitement  and  respect. 

"  Yes.     Take  care,  she'll  see  you !  " 

Xorah  obediently  drew  back,  wringing  the  soapy 
water  from  her  hands  with  due  attention  to  his  broad- 
cloth, and  natty  light  overcoat.  She  surveyed  her 
son  with  happy  shining  eyes,  all  trouble  forgotten  for 
the  moment. 

"  Couldn't  ye  find  your  stovepipe  hat,  Tim  —  Chaun- 
cey?    I  put  it  out  on  the  bed.'' 

"  Yes,  I  saw  it.  But,  Great  Scott,  I  don't  want  that 
thing  to-night  I " 

"  Sure,  I  thought  all  the  gentlemen  — " 


374  THE  RUDDER 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know  anything  about  it.  You  never 
go  anywhere.'' 

Eleanor  descended  the  steps,  holding  her  white  wrap 
up  about  her  throat ;  the  children  set  up  a  treble  pip- 
ing which  she  answered  in  her  pleasant,  low-pitched 
voice,  fending  off  the  swarming  little  figures,  the  little 
inquisitive,  dirty  fingers  gaily  and  kindly.  The  young 
man  had  the  glimpse  for  which  he  was  lying  in  wait ; 
framed  in  the  window  of  the  limousine  against  its 
light-coloured  linings,  her  shapely  black  head,  her 
straight,  high  profile  appeared  for  an  instant  like  a 
cameo.  The  smart  footman  slammed  the  door;  the 
car,  with  a  preliminary  cough  or  two,  moved  off  ma- 
jestically. Chauncey  straightened  up  with  a  long 
breath.  His  eyes  fell  on  his  mother  standing  with 
her  hands  resting  on  the  rim  of  the  sink,  the  Welsbach 
light  overhead  bringing  out  with  its  strong  blue- white 
glare  every  detail  of  her  square,  dry,  active  body,  her 
grey  hair  strained  back  into  a  hard  little  knot,  her 
spectacles,  her  shining  red  knuckles ;  it  revealed  too  a 
heavenly  expression  of  love  and  admiration  and  utter 
self-forgetfulness,  but  Chauncey  did  not  see  that.  It 
was  out  of  his  own  exuberant  self-content  and  joyous 
expectation  that  he  bent  and  kissed  her.  "  Good- 
night, Mamsie !  " 

He  had  not  used  the  endearing  nickname  since  he 
was  a  little  fellow,  and  the  tears  came  again  into 
Norah's  eyes  to  hear  it  and  to  feel  his  caress,  but 
she  held  them  back  valiantly.  "  Go  along  now,  Tim- 
mie!  What  d'ye  want?  Gingerbread?  That's  how 
ye  used  to  get  it  out  of  me.  Well,  have  a  good  time ! 
Is  it  a  banquet  now?  Do  ye  have  to  make  a  speech  for 
them?  Ye  needn't  laugh  at  your  old  mother,  ye  ras- 
cal.    Whisht,  Tim,  go  easy  by  your  father,  he  ain't 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  375 

so  well  to-ni,Ji'ht  I  Better  not  speak  to  liim,  without  he 
says  something  first,  I  think  — "  She  listened  anx- 
iously, but  no  word  passed  between  the  two  men,  and 
Chauncey  strode  off  down  street,  the  children  scatter- 
ing before  him,  and  calling  out  disrespectful  person- 
alities from  a  safe  distance:  they  were  not  so  friendly 
to  him  as  to  the  ''  Visiting  Lady  ''  by  which  title  they 
knew  Eleanor  rather  than  by  her  name. 

Going  out  to  the  North  Hill,  one  entered  a  zone  of 
cooler  air;  and  as  Chauncey  stood  in  the  massiye 
vestibule  of  the  Grace  house,  he  was  aware  of  a  fra- 
grant freshness  breathing  oyer  spacious  stretches  of 
turf,  and  from  the  clustering  trees.  With  a  pleasing 
calculation  the  stone  arches  framed  landscape  pictures 
of  drop-curtain  suggestion  —  alleys  between  the  trees, 
the  distant  curye  of  the  river  bank,  specked  T\i.th 
lights.  Inside,  in  the  hall,  there  was  a  lofty  stillness, 
broken  once  in  a  while  by  remote  voices  and  laughter. 
Chauncey  remembered  Poplar  Street,  its  noises  and 
kitchens  and  front  steps  with  a  rush  of  aversion  sur- 
prising in  such  an  advocate  of  all  that  Poplar  Street 
represented  I  Guided  in  the  direction  of  the  sounds, 
he  arrived  at  a  small  draT\ing-room  ''  done  "  in  Chi- 
nese yellows  and  blues,  a  marvel  of  good  taste,  in- 
timate and  gracious  in  spite  of  its  mirrors  and  lacquer 
and  damask  walls  and  deliberate  symmetry  of  orna- 
ment. There  sat  —  on  one  of  the  delicate  caned 
satinwood  settees  with  the  bouquets  and  ribbons 
painted  by  Angelica  Kauffmann  in  the  medallions  of 
its  back  —  there  sat  little  blonde  Miss  Grace  in  a 
white  toilette  as  elaborately  un-elaborate  as  her  blue- 
and-yellow  ^'  period ''  apartment,  with  a  collar  of 
pearls ;  there  was  another  lady  with  more  jewels  and  a 
dress  quite  as  low-necked  though  her  carefully  waved 


376  THE  RUDDER 

and  puffed  hair  was  as  grey  as  his  mother's;  she  re- 
minded Chaiincey  of  the  dowager  duchesses  he  had 
seen  on  the  stage  and  he  braced  himself  to  endure  be- 
comingly the  chilly  survey  of  her  lorgnette.  There 
was  Eleanor  I  She  was  sitting  with  her  back  towards 
him.  And  there  was  the  immaculate  and  perplexing  \ 
Mr.  Cook,  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  deliv- 
ering some  sort  of  oration,  with  melodramatic  tones 
and  gestures! 

". . .  Why  is  it  when  for  fifty  centuries  the  mas- 
ter has  made  the  laws,  that  when  within  this  cen- 
tury the  MAN  has  asserted  his  right  to  a  voice  in  the 
enactment  of  lav^^s,  the  question  of  fairness  is  so 
often  raised  ...   ?" 

Chauncey  thought  the  point  was  very  well  taken, 
and  promised  himself  to  remember  it.  He  was  pro- 
portionately astonished  when  Mr.  Cook  abruptly 
ended  in  a  burst  of  irrelevant  laughter ;  and  the  ladies 
applauded  frivolously. 

"  Wonderful  I ''  Miss  Grace  ejaculated.  "  It 
sounds  just  as  if  it  meant  something!  Is  it  easy  to 
do?" 

"  Well,  talking  is  always  easier  than  thinking,  you 
know,"  said  the  author,  and  helped  himself  to  a  cock- 
tail. "  Though  a  modest  man,  I  believe  with  prac- 
tice I  would  go  far.  The  first  necessity  is  to  bone  up 
a  vocabulary  of  catchwords  — " 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Marshall,  don't  exaggerate  that  way ! 
It's  —  it's  not  just !  "  Eleanor  said  in  a  troubled  voice. 
"  The  labour-men  are  very  much  in  earnest.  You 
oughtn't  to  make  fun  of  them.  You  know  I've  been 
down  and  lived  among  working-people  for  more  than 
a  year  now,  and  I  know  about  them.     Of  course  they 


BEEAD  AND  CIRCUSES  377 

aren't  saints,  and  some  of  them  aren't  intelligent  or 
even  honest,  but  — " 

"  Neither  are  we  I  They're  just  like  ourselves,  in 
my  observation.  Only  two  kinds  of  people :  men  and 
women.  There's  no  difference  between  your  slum  and 
the  North  Hill,  except  — " 

"  It's  not  a  slum,  sir.  That  shows  how  much  you 
know." 

"  Well,  it's  not  a  place  where  I'd  choose  to  '  loaf 
and  invite  my  soul,'  "  said  Marshall,  sipping  his  cock- 
tail. 

"You  are  afraid  your  soul  might  send  regrets?" 
Miss  Grace  suggested. 

"  Exactly.  We've  never  been  on  very  intimate 
terms,  anj'how." 

Eleanor  gave  a  slight  exclamation ;  she  had  seen  the 
other  guest  in  the  pier-glass  opposite  her,  and  rose 
involuntarily,  turning  toAvards  him.  They  gazed  at 
each  other ;  and  Cook,  catching  the  look  in  Chauncey's 
eyes,  after  a  startled  instant,  said  to  himself  that  he 
didn't  blame  young  Devitt.  Eleanor  was  splendid  to- 
night; any  man  might  have  stared  at  her  too  long  and 
perhaps  too  ardently.  The  labour-leader  himself  was 
rather  on  the  matinee-hero  order,  in  point  of  appear- 
ance I     Miss  Grace  tripped  forward. 

Chauncey  was  presented  to  the  old  duchess,  whose 
manners,  to  his  surprise  and  faint  disappointment, 
turned  out  to  be  perfectly  plain  and  simple ;  and  so 
far  from  going  over  him  haughtily  through  her  lorg- 
nette, she  gave  him  a  nice  old  wrinkled  hand,  and 
looked  at  him  kindly,  if  rather  searchingly  with  her 
bright  black  eyes.  They  went  in  to  dinner  in  another 
pretty  room  with  casements  opening  on  a  terrace,  and 


378  THE  RUDDER 

sat  down  cosily  at  a  small  round  table  with  a  bowl 
of  cottage  flowers,  snapdragon,  larkspur,  daisies  for 
the  only  decoration.  Nothing  seemed  to  be  luxurious 
or  costly,  not  even  the  dinner,  though  it  was  exceed- 
ingly good.  Nobody  talked  in  terms  of  a  hundred 
thousand  dollars  a  year;  nobody  said  a  word  to  Mr. 
Cook  about  his  books,  and  the  celebrity  himself  did 
not  once  refer  to  them!  Indeed,  Chauncey  thought 
he  did  not  talk  at  all  in  a  cultured  manner;  on  the 
contrary  he  actually  used  slang  freely  with  obvious 
relish,  and  stuck  to  topics  the  reverse  of  literary.  It 
was  all  somehow  a  little  disconcerting  at  first,  much 
more  so  than  would  have  been  the  frigid  pomp  for 
Avhich  he  had  prepared  himself.  Still,  he  found  them 
likable;  with  all  their  flippancy,  they  showed  a  flat- 
tering curiosity  and  interest,  and  listened  with  the 
deepest  attention  to  whatever  he  said.  Mrs.  Grace, 
for  instance,  wanted  to  know  how  he  had  happened 
to  "  go  into  the  labour  business,"  as  she  quaintly  de- 
scribed Chauncey's  activities;  and  when  he  told  her 
that  he  had  felt  the  troubled  soul  of  the  toilers  call- 
ing to  him,  everybody  was  manifestly  impressed. 

"  I  don't  think  Mr.  Grace  ever  had  any  trouble  with 
the  hands,''  the  old  lady  remarked ;  "  of  course  that 
w^as  a  good  many  years  ago.  They  didn't  seem  to 
have  strikes  in  those  days." 

"  They  didn't  know  as  much  as  they  do  now,  isn't 
that  the  reason,  Mr.  Devitt?  "  said  the  little  author, 
turning  on  him  a  gaze  of  mild  inquiry.  ^^  Organisa- 
tion has  greatly  improved  the  workingman  in  that 
respect,  hasn't  it?  " 

"  In  every  respect,  my  dear  sir !  At  least,  so  we 
think,"  said  Chauncey,  with  becoming  modesty. 
"  Even  our  enemies  —  that  is,  those  who  are  opposed 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  379 

to  us  — "  he  interpolated  gravely  tactful ;  "  even  thej 
will  admit  that  under  union  leadership  the  condition 
of  the  workingman  has  bettered  immeasurably." 

"  Then  what  do  they  want  to  strike  for  7iowf  ^' 
queried  Mrs.  Grace  innocently. 

One  cannot  prepare  oneself  against  absurdities,  so 
it  happened  that  Chauncey  had  no  answer  ready;  he 
gave  her  instead  an  indulgent  smile.  She  was  really 
a  dear  old  soul,  diamonds  and  all,  and  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  no  more  ignorant  than  the  rest  of  them;  there 
seemed  to  be  about  all  of  their  questions  and  com- 
ments the  same  kind  of  baffling  simplicity.  Mr.  Cook 
asked  if  they  had  coloured  men  in  the  unions,  and 
being  answered  no,  absolutely  wanted  to  know  why 
not?  Why  not!  Chauncey  patiently  pointed  out  to 
him  what  white  men  wouldn't  suffer  was  an  associa- 
tion, whereupon  Miss  Grace  naively  inquired  if  the 
coloured  men  weren't  toilers,  too? 

"  No,  of  course  not !  Whoever  saw  a  coloured  man 
toil?  "  said  Cook,  while  Chauncey  was  still  searching 
for  a  rejoinder  which  somehow  eluded  him.  But  with 
that  and  some  laughter  the  "  labour  business  "  disap- 
peared from  the  conversation!  Chauncey  could  not 
have  said  whether  the  subject  was  avoided  by  tacit 
common  consent,  or  by  some  sort  of  polite  jockeying, 
but  it  never  came  up  again,  though  he  himself  would 
have  been  willing,  even  pleased  to  continue  it;  he 
liked  to  be  interviewed. 

Mrs.  Loring,  he  noticed,  was  rather  silent  all  this 
while.  She  was  seated  across  from  him,  an  arrange- 
ment which  after  the  first  disappointment  of  not  be- 
ing beside  her  had  been  swallowed,  he  found  on  the 
whole  more  to  his  liking.  The  table  was  small,  the 
flowers  unobtrusive,  the  candles  discreetly  dim;  he 


380  THE  RUDDER 

could  look  at  lier  often  and  long  without  imprudence, 
his  position  making  it  natural.  He  did  look.  Once 
or  twice  as  the  dinner  wore  along,  he  forgot  himself, 
or  rather  forgot  everything  but  himself  and  her,  and 
presently  became  aware  with  a  guilty  start  that  some 
one  had  spoken  to  him,  had  perhaps  repeated  the 
remark,  and  answered  at  random,  gathering  himself  ^ 
together  as  best  he  could.  Sometimes  their  eyes  met, 
and  with  a  delirious  hope  he  saw  or  fancied  he  saw 
the  beautiful  colour  sweep  slowly  upwards  over  her 
face.  She  had  on  a  cloudy  black  dress ;  the  soft  folds 
of  it  caressed  her  maddeningly.  There  was  a  tiny 
mole  dotted  in  the  gracious  curve  where  her  arm  and 
shoulder  joined,  that  alternately  showed  and  retreated 
tantalisingly  with  every  movement,  under  the  filmy 
bretelle.  She  wore  a  thread  of  a  chain  about  her 
neck  with  a  pendant,  flakes  of  diamonds  in  a  web 
of  silver  edged  with  fairy-like  fringes  and  tassels  that 
hung  down  and  ran  together  in  a  point  just  resting 
in  the  sweet  valley  between  her  rising  breasts.  The 
young  man  looked  and  looked  until  he  thought  he 
would  suffocate  with  longing. 

"  You  smoke,  Mr.  Devitt?  "  Cook  said  to  him  for 
the  third  time.  Chauncey  came  to  himself  with  a 
shock  of  anxiety ;  he  smiled  and  stammered  and  fum- 
bled in  the  cigarette  case  Cook  was  holding  out  to 
him,  furtively  inspecting  the  little  man's  face.  But 
Cook  merely  looked  interested  in  Chauncey  and  the  ' 
cigarettes;  he  explained  with  a  deprecating  humour 
that  he  couldn't  smoke  cigars.  Everybody  was  stand- 
ing up;  the  ladies  moved  towards  the  terrace;  in  the 
background  the  butler  was  stalking  the  company, 
with  a  tray  of  coffee-cups  and  silverware.  Another 
minute  and  they  were  outside  under  the  night  and 


BKEAD  AND  CIRCUSES  381 

stars,  in  the  comparative  safety  of  the  semi-darkness ; 
and  so  far  as  he  knew  Chauncey  had  not  betrayed  him- 
self. 

Now  were  due  those  delicious  moments  about  which 
he  had  been  speculating  rapturously  for  the  last 
twenty-four  hours.  Alack  and  alas  for  all  balked  and 
tormented  lovers,  the  chances  for  a  solitude  a  dcujr 
seemed  as  remote  as  ever!  The  wicker  chairs  and 
tables  were  drawn  up  in  a  circle;  Mrs.  Grace  appar- 
ently had  no  notion  of  obliterating  herself  in  the  style 
customary  and  becoming  to  her  years;  her  daughter 
and  the  author,  instead  of  pairing  off  decently  as 
Chauncey  had  expected,  sat  as  if  rooted,  and  kept  on 
with  their  gay,  friendly  talk,  never  allowing  them- 
selves to  become  confidential,  never  leaving  Mrs.  Lor- 
ing  and  himself  out  of  it  for  one  second,  with  a  posi- 
tively infernal  civility.  Nobody  made  the  slightest 
move  to  go  and  look  at  the  moon;  nobody  suggested 
that  he  be  shown  the  house  or  the  grounds  or  the 
view.  He  had  the  poor  comfort  of  sitting  nearer  her^ 
and  gazing  as  before.  It  was  an  intolerable  kind  of 
blissful  misery  which  seemed  to  have  already  lasted 
for  years,  centuries,  aeons,  and  would  last,  unless,  he 
wildly  thought,  he  went  mad  and  died  of  love  —  killed 
himself  at  her  feet!     The  idea  was  rather  attractive. 

When,  however  —  after  another  cycle  or  so !  —  she 
arose,  and  he  knew  that  the  evening  was  over,  Chaun- 
cey suddenly  found  in  desolation  of  spirit  that  he  did 
not  want  it  to  end  at  all,  that,  since  nothing  better 
could  be  hoped  for,  he  wanted  it  to  keep  on  this  way 
forever.  As  he  stood  by,  listening  to  the  good-nights, 
and  mechanically  answering  those  addressed  to  him- 
self, he  noticed  with  a  dart  of  envy  that  Mr.  Cook  was 
not  leaving  yet.     He  could  stay  as  long  as  he  chose. 


382  THE  RUDDER 

very  likely,  and  have  his  girl  to  himself,  and  whisper 
to  her  out  there  on  the  terrace ;  that's  what  people  got 
for  being  successful  authors  and  little  old  maids  with 
barrels  of  money !  Cook  was  of  an  age  to  be  Chaun- 
eey's  father,  and  Miss  Grace  well-preserved,  to  be 
sure,  and  nice  enough,  but  there  was  nothing  to  her. 
It  was  ridiculous  and  infuriating. 

"  So  nice  of  you  to  come,  Mr.  Devitt.  I  hope  we 
haven't  bored  you  so  that  you  will  fly  at  sight  of  us 
hereafter,"  said  the  subject  of  these  uncomplimentary 
reflections.  Chauncey  was  just  rummaging  for  some 
correspondingly  smooth  and  civil  repartee,  when  she 
routed  every  thought  from  his  mind,  by  adding: 
"  I'm  sending  Mrs.  Loring  back  and  there's  plenty  of 
room  for  you,  if  you  would  like  — ?  It  must  be  very 
crowded  in  the  street-cars  a  night  like  this,  everybody 
riding  around  trying  to  cool  off — " 

What  else  she  said,  what  the  others  said,  Chauncey 
did  not  know.  He  rei^lied  somehow,  his  heart  bound- 
ing, his  head  in  a  whirl.  He  went  and  got  his  over- 
coat and  hat  from  the  silent,  well-bred  English  foot- 
man in  the  cloakroom,  who  pocketed  the  prodigious 
tip  Chauncey  thrust  upon  him,  and  sneered  behind 
his  back.  He  followed  Eleanor  down  the  steps;  he 
handed  her  into  the  car ;  and  it  rolled  off,  leaving  Mr. 
Cook  under  the  great  bronze  lanterns  of  the  carriage- 
entrance,  looking  after  them  with  a  very  queer,  dubi- 
ous countenance. 

The  author  slowly  and  meditatively  made  his  way 
back  to  the  blue-and-yellow  drawing-room  where  the 
ladies  of  the  house  were  sitting.  "  Well?  "  said  he, 
looking  from  one  to  the  other. 

"Well?"  echoed  Bessie,  and  watched  him  subside 
into  a  chair.     After  a  silence  she  said :     "  Mr.  Devitt 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  383 

is  a  very  striking,  unusual,  impressive-looking  per- 
son!" 

"  Yes.  Mr.  Devitt  is  a  very  striking,  unusual,  im- 
pressive-looking person !  "  Cook  repeated. 

For  some  reason  they  all  began  to  laugb. 

The  automobile  sped  along.  Eleanor,  though,  like 
any  woman,  she  had  ten  times  greater  command  of 
herself  than  the  young  man  at  her  side,  was  trem- 
blingly conscious  of  his  nearness,  as  indeed  she  had 
been  all  evening,  with  moments  of  wonder,  of  self- 
scorn,  of  a  sort  of  ashamed  abandon.  The  presence  of 
the  others,  instead  of  a  vexation,  was  to  her  as  that  of 
armed  forces  and  outworks  of  defence.  Now  that  the 
enemy  was  at  her  very  gates,  she  rushed  to  her  own 
weapons,  assuring  herself  meanwhile  with  a  desperate 
hypocrisy  that  of  course  she  would  not  yield,  she  had 
no  idea  of  yielding  —  it  would  be  foolish  and  worse, 
degrading  —  her  only  uncertainty  was  whether  she 
could  hold  him  in  check.  His  silence  was  ominous. 
She  began  to  talk  fast  and  breathlessly  about  any- 
thing, everything,  repeating  gossip  which  ordinarily 
she  herself  would  have  been  the  first  to  silence.  She 
could  not  stop  to  observe  noblesse  oblige  in  this  ex- 
tremity ! 

"  My  uncle  and  Miss  Grace  are  really  exasperating. 
He  has  been  in  love  with  her  for  years,  and  everybody 
thinks  she  would  have  him  if  he  would  only  ask  her. 
But  he  won't,  because  of  her  money.  He  doesn't  seem 
to  know  that  the  things  he  has  done  —  his  position  in 
the  literary  world,  you  know  —  he's  a  very  well-known 
man  —  it  never  seems  to  occur  to  him  that  that  off- 
sets all  her  millions  —  I  daresay  she  has  millions,  I 
don't  know,  of  course  —  but  anybody  can  see  that  they 
are  very  wealthy.     It  would  be  an  ideal  match ;  they 


384  THE  RUDDER 

are  so  congenial  —  but  he  simply  won't,  he's  too  stiff- 
necked.  Such  a  pity !  If  he  — "  She  finished  with 
a  shrug. 

"Are  you  cold?"  said  Chauncey  huskily;  and 
reached  behind  her  and  gathered  up  the  wrap  which 
had  slid  from  her  shoulders  with  the  movement.  He 
did  not  withdraw  his  arm;  his  fingers  touched  her 
lightly.  Eleanor,  balancing  on  some  mental  tight- 
rope, decided  that  it  was  best  to  pretend  unconscious- 
ness of  his  attitude.  At  the  rate  the  car  was  going, 
they  would  reach  Poplar  Street  in  a  few  minutes,  and 
he  must  i^erforce  return  to  sanity. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  not  at  all." 

"  Yes,  you  are !  You  are  cruelly  cold  —  to  me !  " 
whispered  the  young  man,  getting  his  voice  with  an 
effort,  his  sigh  stirring  the  loose  waves  of  her  hair. 
His  other  hand  groped  for  hers  and  held  it  with  sud- 
den violence. 

Eleanor  heard  her  voice  saying,  ^^  Please,  Mr.  De- 
vitt  — !  "  while  she  made  no  movement  to  release  her- 
self. The  devices  whose  flimsiness  and  futility  she 
had  known  all  along  fell  to  pieces  before  the  onslaught 
of  her  own  senses,  abetting  this  male  passion.  In 
chaos  she  grasped  at  straws ;  this  was  not  right  —  she 
ought  to  have  stopped  him  —  she  could  not  —  oh,  for 
shame !  She  knew  very  well  it  was  her  own  fault  — 
w^ell,  what  harm  did  it  do?  —  it  was  not  right  —  w^hat 
would  people  say  if  they  knew  — ! 

The  car  swayed  around  a  turn,  and  threw  her 
against  his  shoulder.  "At  least  I  am  not  to  blame 
for  tliatf  was  the  one  thought  that  careered  wildly 
through  her,  as  she  felt  his  embrace,  rigid  yet  quiver- 
ing, tighten  around  her,  the  pounding  of  his  heart, 
his  broken  breathing. 


BREAD  AND  CIPvCUSES  385 

"  Oh,  Eleanor  — ! '' 

And  then,  like  a  cold  wave,  the  light  from  the  arc 
lamp  at  the  head  of  Poplar  Street  spread  over  them^ 
and  the  car  slackened  speed,  already  slanting  toward 
the  curb  I  Chaiincev  released  her  abruptly,  his  voice 
and  some  semblance  of  self-control  coming  back  to 
him  with  the  furious  oath  he  ground  out  behind  his  ^ 
clenched  teeth.  Eleanor  went  into  light  laughter; 
she  did  not  like  him  the  less  for  that  disappointed 
l)rofanitY;  she  could  not  keep  herself  from  glancing 
roiiuishlT  into  the  Tounix  man's  white  face  as  he 
helped  her  out  of  the  automobile,  and  she  fled  wp  the 
steps  relieved,  exultant,  reckless.  Poplar  Street  had 
long  since  gone  to  bed,  its  windows  gaping  for  a  breath 
of  fresh  air;  but  there  was  a  light  in  the  Morehead 
front  room.  In  the  one  at  the  back  next  the  kitchen 
Lutie  was  asleep  with  her  head  on  the  soiled  and 
sticky  red  cotton  tablecloth,  but  Eleanor  did  not  know 
that.  She  had  forgotten  Lutie's  existence.  ^'  He  will 
have  to  give  the  chauffeur  a  tip,  and  that  will  keep 
him  until  I  get  inside,'^  she  thought,  fitting  the  key; 
'^  otherwise  he  is  capable  of  — "  Of  what?  She  would 
not  finish  the  sentence,  even  to  herself;  and  indeed, 
she  had  no  time  for  there  he  was  at  her  shoulder  I 

'^  Let  me  do  that,"  he  said  with  authority,  taking 
the  key  out  of  her  hand.  Eleanor  submitted  in  re- 
turning panic.  On  the  cramjied  threshold  they  had 
to  stand  close  together.  He  pushed  the  door  back, 
and  stood  against  it,  lookins:  down  at  her.  Eleanor 
passed  in  hurriedly. 

"  Thank  you.     Good-night !  '' 

But  Chauncey  had  come  in  behind  her.  He  closed 
the  door  gently,  and  they  faced  each  other  in  the  dim^ 
hot,  little  room.     He  came  nearer. 


386  THE  RUDDER 

"  Eleanor !  Don't  send  me  away !  I  —  I  can^t 
leave  you  —  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer.  Eleanor, 
you  won't  make  me  go  away  from  you  now?  ^' 

His  voice  was  only  a  gasping  murmur,  but  still 
beautiful,  more  than  ever  so  in  this  pleading. 
Eleanor  stood  mute,  the  turmoil  recommencing  within 
her :  this  was  not  right  —  but  if  he  kept  on  —  she 
would  not  jdeld  —  pshaw,  she  had  yielded  long  ago 
in  her  heart !  —  this  was  not  right  —  but  what  harm 
did  it  do?  —  He  was  free  and  so  was  she,  or  nearly 
so  —  it  was  not  right  —  what  if  people  found  out  — 

"Do  you  want  me  to  go?  Eleanor,  look  at  me! 
Speak  to  me!  Say  you'll  let  me  stay  with  you!  I 
—  Eleanor  — !  "  He  had  her  in  his  arms ;  and  bent 
down  and  brushed  aside  the  pendant. 

The  strange  thing  is  that  if  he  had  kissed  her  lips, 
Eleanor  might  not  have  felt  the  fierce  revulsion  that 
followed  that  caress.  But  all  at  once,  in  a  lightning- 
flash  of  disgust,  she  beheld  the  pair  of  them  as  a  com- 
mon man,  a  common  woman,  sensually  excited,  mak- 
ing love  to  each  other  or  rather  barefacedly  desiring 
each  other  in  the  old,  old,  dull  animal  fashion  with 
the  old  revolting  tricks  and  gestures,  as  if  neither 
one  of  them  had  a  soul  or  an  intelligence,  here  in  a 
close,  ugly  hole  of  a  room  that  smelled  vulgarly !  She 
stepped  back,  freeing  herself  with  an  unexpected 
movement. 

"  I  think  — "  she  was  beginning  aloud  in  a  cold  and 
well-controlled  voice,  when  some  slight  noise  at  the 
door  arrested  her. 

"  Hope  you  folks  had  a  nice  time !  "  said  Lutie. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  morning  papers  came  out  with  headlines 
such  as :  "  Ice  Situation  Tightens  Up," 
"  Engineers  Hold  Parley/'  etc.,  but  the  pub- 
lic, reading  with  fresh  alarms,  found  the  columns  un- 
derneath to  contain,  after  all,  no  real  news,  nothing 
but  the  rumours  already  in  circulation,  revamped. 
There  were  articles  with  cartoons  describing  scenes 
at  the  ice-depots  in  humorous  vein,  and  ditto  jDathetic. 
T.  Chauncej  Devitt  in  yesterday's  inter^^ew,  deplored 
the  suffering  among  the  poor,  pointed  out  that  Mr. 
Loring  had  a  great  deal  to  answer  for,  and  nobly  de- 
clared that  if  all  means  of  bringing  that  gentleman 
to  reason  and  to  a  conviction  of  his  wrong-doing 
failed,  he  himself  would  order  a  carload  of  ice  sent 
over  from  Covington  —  there  being  no  strike  on  the 
Kentucky  side  of  the  river  —  for  free  distribution, 
IDaying  for  it  out  of  his  own  pocket  I  "  Yeah,  he'll  do 
that,  T.  Chauncey'll  do  that  —  in  a  pig's  eye  I "  re- 
marked Mr.  Kendrick  and  other  sceptics,  coming  upon 
this  item.  Elsewhere  one  read  that  it  was  ninety- 
five  by  the  thermometer  in  the  Government  Building 
the  day  before;  and  that  the  attendance  at  the  ball- 
imrk  had  been  rather  light,  owing  to  the  low  standing 
of  the  home  team  which  was  being  brought  down  still 
more  by  the  efforts  of  the  Black  Sox;  yesterday's 
game  made  the  latter's  third  consecutive  victory,  hav- 
ing been  won  by  Loring's  ^'  lucky  wallop  in  the  sev- 
enth." 

Eleanor  had  not  seen  these  reports  when  she  started 

387 


388  THE  EUDDER 

out  a  little  late,  but  fresh  and  vigorous  in  defiance 
of  the  heat,  to  find  Homer  Morehead  and  begin  her 
rounds.  The  boy  had  been  invaluable  in  this  pinch, 
he  was  so  quick,  reliable  and  ready  to  assume  respon- 
sibility. As  usual  she  did  not  have  far  to  go  in 
search  of  him ;  Homer  was  sitting  on  the  front  door- 
step engaged  in  reassembling  the  pair  of  skates  from 
Ms  box-cart  lying  alongside. 

"  Well,  Homer,  good  morning !  I  think  we  had 
better  go  around  first  to  old  Mrs.  Hanke,  and  see  what 
she  wants  — " 

But  Homer,  who  ordinarily  responded  with  so  much 
alacrity,  did  not  budge.  "  Nothin'  doin' !  "  said  he, 
and  continued  operations  on  the  skates  with  a  stubbed 
penknife  which  he  employed  as  a  screw-driver. 
"  What  is  that?  What  did  you  say?  '' 
He  looked  at  her  sidewise,  pursing  up  his  lij^s  and 
wagging  his  head  with  an  expression  at  once  knowing 
and  regretful.  "  'S  all  off,  Mrs.  Loring !  I  told  you 
how  it  would  be.  I  knew  they'd  spring  something 
before  long,''  he  said,  and  returned  to  the  skates,  with 
a  squint  along  the  rollers  to  see  that  they  were  in 
alignment.  The  significance  of  his  employment  and 
of  the  dismantled  cart  began  to  emerge,  to  Eleanor's 
dismay. 

^^  Do  you  mean  we  can't  get  ice  any  more?  " 
'^  That's  about  it,"  said  Homer.  Having  completed 
the  job  to  his  satisfaction,  he  set  the  skate  beside  its 
fellow,  and  stood  up,  snapping  the  i)enknife  shut  and 
thrusting  it  into  his  pocket  with  an  air  that  expressed 
finality.  "  At  least  there's  going  to  be  slews  of  folks 
that  won't  get  none.  You  gotta  go  to  the  fact'ry 
and  then  they  won't  let  you  have  none,  without  you 
got  a  doctor's  cert'f'cate  there's  sickness  in  the  house. 


BKEAD  AND  CIRCUSES  389 

I  guess  that  lets  you  'n'  me  out,  Mrs.  Loring.  You 
can't  beat  it  out  to  a  factory  every  time  somebody 
wants  ice,  let  alone  you  can't  get  doctor's  cert'f  cates 
for  all  of  ^em ;  and  /  couldn't  lug  it  all  that  way  for 
you,  anyhow." 

Eleanor  listened  to  him  blankly.  ^^  Are  you  sure, 
Homer?" 

"  Try  for  yourself  and  see !  "  Homer  advised  her 
with  detachment.     ^'  I  did." 

"But  they're  making  ice  still?  They've  got  the 
ice?  "  Eleanor  asked ;  and  as  he  nodded  a  gust  of  blind 
resentment  shook  her.  Of  all  selfish,  criminal  follies 
this  was  the  climax !  It  made  no  difference  who  was 
to  blame;  they  were  all  to  blame!  "What  are  they 
thinking  of?  Has  nohody  any  sense?  People  must 
have  ice  —  they  must  have  it !  What  does  Mr.  Loring 
say?" 

"  He  ain't  nothin'  to  do  ^ith  it  I  don't  b'lieve,"  said 
the  boy.  "  Somebody  said  he  vras  sick  —  laid  off  with 
that  arm  broke,  you  know.  Anyhow,  the  strikers  got 
fellows  in  charge  at  all  the  ice-plants,  and  they've 
sprung  that  cert'f'cate  business  like  I  was  telling  you. 
They're  making  it  go  all  right,  too!  I  s'pose  they 
claim  it  don't  hurt  well  people  to  go  without  ice,  and 
thev're  willing  to  let  the  sick  ones  have  it,  ain't  they? 
What  you  going  to  do  'bout  it?  Course  the  hospitals 
and  institootions  they're  all  getting  it  right  along, 
'cause  they're  cram-jam  full  of  sick  people.  As  long 
as  it's  that  way,  the  strikers  can  claim  they  ain't  any- 
body got  any  kick  to  make.     Dalton's  pretty  slick." 

"Does  —  does  Mr.  Devitt  know?"  Eleanor  asked 
uneasily. 

"  Sure  thing !  He  goes  round  to  all  the  fact'ries 
every  day,  you  know." 


390  THE  RUDDER 

Eleanor  stood  still,  confronting  her  own  helpless- 
ness with  her  old  familiar  flaming  rebellion;  but  she 
had  herself  under  stricter  discipline  than  in  Mrs. 
Maranda's  day,  or  rather  realised  that  there  was  noth- 
ing tangible,  as  it  were,  to  rebel  against,  no  one  in- 
dividual of  whom  to  make  a  target.  For  the  first 
time  in  her  life  she  was  without  recourse;  an  appeal 
to  Mr.  Loring  (which,  oddly  enough,  w^as  her  first 
impulse)  she  dismissed  as  futile;  if  he  had  made  up 
his  mind,  nothing  she  could  do  or  say  would  bring 
him  to  alter  it.  Besides,  to  tell  the  truth,  Eleanor 
found  her  view  of  old  Amzi's  conduct  somehow  dis- 
torted by  her  profound  respect  for  him ;  in  this  quar- 
rel, he  might  not  be  wholly  right,  but  she  was  pos- 
sessed by  an  ungovernable  conviction  that  he  was  so 
nearly  right,  that  she  could  not  but  applaud  him  for 
"  sticking  it  out."  The  strikers  must  undoubtedly 
be  right,  in  a  measure,  too,  but  strive  as  she  would 
she  could  not  look  upon  them  as  equally  trustworthy. 
This  Dalton  man,  now  —  but  she  immediately  averted 
her  mind  from  Dalton.  Mr.  Devitt  —  her  blood 
quickened  in  spite  of  her  —  Mr.  Devitt  was  too  im- 
practical, too  visionary,  too  one-sided  to  apply  to  in 
such  a  crisis.  After  last  night,  how  could  she  go 
to  him?  Let  him  come  to  her  —  it  burned  through 
her  that  she  was  thinking  of  him  now  only  as  a  lover, 
not  as  a  power,  not  as  a  leader  any  more.  He  was 
a  young  man  who  had  kissed  her  —  and  this  morning 
Eleanor  forgave  him  that  kiss. 

"Lina's  raising  the  roof,"  Homer  observed,  cas- 
ually. "  I  was  gettin'  ice  right  along  for  her  to  fix 
that  dope  she  feeds  the  kid  with.  Well,  she  ain't  the 
only  one." 

No,  Lina  was  not  the  only  one.     Eleanor  thought 


BREAD  AND  CIKCUSES  391 

of  the  mothers  aud  babies  all  over  the  city  —  she 
could  have  uaiiied  a  score  in  her  own  district  —  with 
another  stab  of  impotent  anger  and  pity.  Oh,  the 
fools,  oh,  the  senseless  stubborn  brutes  that  men  could 
be !  But  it  was  a  waste  of  time  to  stand  here  manu- 
facturing denunciations.  "  You've  been  everywhere , 
did  you  say,  Homer?  Well,  then,  it's  my  turn  to 
try,"  she  said  determinedly,  and  set  off  without  much 
idea  of  where  to  go  or  what  she  meant  to  do,  but  find- 
inof  that  merelv  to  be  in  action  restored  her  self-con- 
fidence.  After  all.  Homer  was  only  a  boy,  with  a 
boy's  limitations  in  the  way  of  resource  and  personal 
influence;  she  was  not  to  be  so  easily  defeated. 

There  was  no  ice  at  the  engine-house,  but  she  had 
expected  that  and  went  on  undismayed.  The  drug- 
gist at  the  corner  had  gotten  it  on  his  representa- 
tions that  some  medicines  could  not  be  kept  in  this 
weather  without  it,  and  that  his  establishment  was 
'^next  thing  to  a  hospital  anyhow,"  he  told  Eleanor; 
of  course  he  had  none  for  sale;  the  soda-water  foun- 
tain was  tinkling  merrily.  At  Schlochtermaier's  the 
assistant  meat-cutter  said  that  their  supply  of  ice 
from  the  day  before  w^oiild  only  last  till  noon;  he 
didn't  know  what  they'd  do  after  that;  Heinie  had 
gone  out  to  see  about  it  —  and  Gee,  wasn't  this  thing 
fierce,  though !  Eleanor  started  off  again ;  there  was 
the  usual  stream  of  all  sorts  of  vehicles  through  the 
streets  carrying  ice ;  she  overheard  people  relating  the 
devices  by  w^hich  they  had  gotten  it,  the  other  devices 
which  had  failed.  Xo  one  believed  that  this  new  trial 
would  continue  long;  there  were  too  many  ways  of 
^'beating  the  game";  any  doctor  would  give  you  a 
certificate,  no  matter  whether  you  had  sickness  in 
your  family  or  not.     Anyhow,  if  this  thing  kept  on. 


392  THE  RUDDER 

pretty  soon  people  would  get  used  to  going  without 
ice;  they  didn't  have  ice  in  summer  thirty  or  forty 
years  ago  before  ice-machines  and  refrigerator-cars 
were  invented,  and  nobody  worried  about  it.  ^^  Sure 
they  didn't  worry!  They  just  died!  Died  off  like 
flies,  IDarticularly  the  children  and  the  feeble  ones, 
there're  statistic-sharks  that  have  got  the  figures  to 
prove  it.  Must  have  been  lots  of  fun !  "  sarcastically 
retorted  the  man  to  whom  the  above  argument  was  ad- 
dressed. Eleanor  remembered  those  comparative 
tables  of  mortality,  too,  with  a  sinking  heart. 

She  came  to  the  tenement  where  the  Tom  More- 
heads  were  living  and  went  in,  exchanging  comments 
and  condolences  with  other  tenants  as  she  climbed 
the  stairs.  Some  of  them  had  a  little  ice,  and  their 
poor,  tumbledown,  unsavoury  boxes  were  crowded 
with  the  meat,  milk  and  what-not  that  they  were  try- 
ing to  keep  for  less  fortunate  friends.  The  lank, 
worn,  overworked  women  sighed  and  exclaimed  and 
wondered  how  long  the  trouble  would  last,  but  not 
one  of  them  shared,  or  at  least  expressed,  Eleanor's 
furious  rancour.  They  accepted  this  unnecessary 
and  cruelly  undeserved  suffering  as  they  accepted  the 
other  hard  circumstances  of  their  lives,  as  if  it  were, 
like  the  July  heat,  an  act  of  the  Power  above  which 
nobody  could  complain  about,  or  provide  against,  or 
avert ! 

Tom  Morehead  came  to  their  door  with  his  puffed 
eyes,  his  tallowy  face,  with  his  bare  feet  in  a  pair  of 
ragged  slippers,  his  dirty  undershirt  clutched  about 
his  neck;  but  he  was  sober  for  once,  and  smiled 
weakly  at  sight  of  Eleanor.  Through  the  door  she 
had  a  glimpse  of  the  place  unkempt  as  usual;  and 


BKEAD  AND  CIKCUSES  303 

from  the  room  beyond  an  incessant  thin  wailing  pene- 
trated her  ears  like  a  needle. 

"  W'y,  Mrs.  Loring!  Lina,  here's  Mrs.  Loring 
come  to  see  you !  "  Tom  said  with  a  miserable  affecta- 
tion of  heartiness.  Inarticulate  but  savage  sounds 
answered  him  from  the  inner  apartment.  '^  Lina,  she 
can't  come  just  now,  I  guess  —  she  —  she's  busy.  I 
don't  guess  you  got  time  to  wait/'  said  Tom,  hesitat- 
ing, with  uncertain  eyes.  But  he  fell  back  resignedly 
as  Eleanor  walked  in.  "  We  ain't  got  fixed  up  yet  — 
we  wasn't  looking  for  comp'ny  so  early.  Haye  a 
chair,  Mrs.  Loring  —  you  must  be  tired  —  all  them 
stairs  — " 

Eleanor  cut  short  his  nervous  stammerings.  "  How 
is  the  baby?  " 

^^  Wy,  she  ain't  so  well  — " 

"  Have  you  had  the  doctor?  " 

''  W*y,  no,  ma'am,  we  ain't  yet.  We  —  we're  kinda 
in  trouble,"  said  Tom,  lowering  his  voice  with  an  un- 
easy glance  towards  the  other  door.  "  You  know 
how^  it  is,  Mrs.  Loring  — ?  " 

"  Xobody  has  any  ice  —  yes,  I  know.  But  if  you 
could  get  the  doctor  here,  he'd  give  you  an  order  for 
it  on  the  baby's  account,  and  then  you  could  get  it, 
even  if  you  had  to  go  out  to  Elmwood.'' 

"  Well,  we  —  we  ain't  got  nobody  to  send  — " 

Eleanor  controlled  her  temper ;  the  spectacle  would 
have  astonished  Mr.  Cook,  and  perhaps  enlightened 
him  as  to  what  and  how  much  she  had  learned  this 
past  year.  "Xobody  to  send?  Can't  you  go  your- 
self? " 

"  W'y  —  I  —  I  — " 

"  Haven't  you  any  money?  " 


394  THE  RUDDER 

"  No'm  —  that  is  —  I  got  fifty  cents,  onV  — "  lie 
looked  towards  the  door  again  — "  on'y  Lina  —  she  — 
I  give  it  to  her,  ^n'  she  —  she  — '^  His  eyes  appealed 
to  Eleanor  desperate!}'. 

Lina  appeared  violently  in  the  doorway,  with  the 
baby  in  her  arms.  "  Never  you  mind,  Mrs.  Loring, 
don't  you  waste  no  time  on  liim!  -^  she  said  in  a  high, 
grating  voice.  ^'  I  ain't.  I'm  through  with  him ! 
I'm  through  with  that  lazy,  stinking  drunk !  Wat 
you  staying  round  here  for?  Didn't  I  tell  you  to  clear 
out?  "  she  screamed,  advancing  on  the  man.  "  Ain't 
I  told  you  I'm  through  with  you,  you  — !  "  She  flung 
an  epithet  at  him  like  a  stone. 

"  Say,  look  out,  Lina,  you  —  you  don't  want  Mrs. 
Loring  to  think  —  to  think  nothing  — "  Tom  expostu- 
lated; he  began  wretched  apologies  to  Eleanor. 
"  Lina,  she's  all  tired  'n'  played  out ;  she's  real  nerv- 
ous, you  know.  Say,  don^t,  Lina!  Say,  you  ain't 
asked  Mrs.  Loring  to  set  down  — " 

But  Lina  was  beyond  conventions.  "You  lemme 
alone!  I  guess  I  know  w'at  I  mean.  You  get  outa 
this,  Tom  Morehead,  or  I'll  show  you,  you  — !  You 
and  your  old  ice-strike!  You  can  just  take  your  old 
ice-strike  and  go  to  hell  with  it,  that's  w'at  you  can 
do !  Look  w'at  you  done  to  my  baby !  Look  w'at  you 
done  to  my  baby !  "  She  grasped  the  poor  little  crea- 
ture to  her  in  a  paroxysm  of  maternal  passion  dread- 
ful to  witness,  it  was  so  like  the  helpless  anguish  of  a 
she-animal  over  its  sick  or  wounded  young. 

The  husband  turned  to  Eleanor  with  a  despairing 
gesture.  "  That's  the  way  she  acts  right  along.  I 
can't  do  nothing  —  they  ain't  nothing  I  can  do.  She 
keeps  blaming  it  on  me,  and  I  ain't  done  nothing. 
Wy,  my  God,  w'at  could  I  do  — ?  "  he  whimpered. 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  395 

"  Better  go  away  a  minute,  and  let  me  talk  to  her," 
said  Eleanor,  gently,  sick  at  heart  for  both  of  them. 
She  put  him  aside  and  went  up  to  the  w^oman.  "  Lis- 
ten to  me,  Lina  — " 

All  at  once  Lina's  fit  of  rage  and  terror  broke  down 
in  a  storm  of  sobs ;  she  collapsed  on  the  littered  floor, 
moaning  and  rocking  herself  to  and  fro  with  the  cry- 
ing baby  huddled  in  her  arms.  "  Oh,  Mrs.  Loring,  her 
food's  all  spoiled !  It's  all  soured !  It  won't  keep  a 
minute  without  we  got  some  ice!  The  milk  w^on't 
keep  nor  nothin' !  She'll  starve  to  death  —  she'll  die 
—  shell  die!     Oh,  what'll  I  do?    What'll  I  do? '' 

"  Listen  to  me ! "  said  Eleanor  again ;  and  her 
strong,  firm,  kind  voice  actually  quieted  them.  They 
looked  at  her  in  a  fascination  not  untouched  with 
fear.  "  I  am  going  to  get  you  some  ice.  Your  hus- 
band must  go  with  me  to  carry  it,  and  we  will  go 
straight  out  to  one  of  the  factories,  at  Elmwood,  or 
w^herever  is  nearest,  without  waiting  to  see  the  doctor, 
or  to  get  any  certificate  or  anything.  I  will  make 
them  give  me  some;  they  will  as  soon  as  they  know 
who  I  am.  Now  you  must  give  Tom  his  money,  and 
we  will  go." 

"  Mrs.  Loring,  I  won't,  I  won/t!  I  won't  let  him 
have  no  money  for  to  go  and  get  soused  on  — !  " 

"  Give  him  the  money !  "  repeated  Eleanor  steadily. 
''  You  must  make  your  own  money  go  as  far  as  yon 
can,  before  you  take  any  from  the  Charities.  Give 
him  the  money,  Lina.  I  will  see  that  it  is  spent 
right." 

The  other  obeyed  her  like  a  child. 

"  Now^  come  with  me  —  no,  never  mind  your 
clothes,  that's  of  no  consequence  — " 

"  I  don't  know  how  I'll  make  out  to  carry  it  — " 


396  THE  RUDDER 

"  You  can  fix  one  of  those  slings  of  cord,  the  kind 
they  carry  watermelons  with  —  I've  seen  dozens  of 
people  carrying  ice  around  that  way/'  said  Eleanor, 
mastering  her  impatience.     ''  Come  now !  " 

On  the  street  Tom  held  back  again.  "  Mrs.  Loring, 
where  you  going?     You  going  to  Elmwood?  " 

^^Yes.     Well?" 

"  Wy,  I  —  I  — "  said  Tom,  wavering.  ^^  I  don't 
know  —  Mr.  Loring,  maybe's  got  it  in  for  me,  you 
know,  'n'  I  —  I  — " 

"  If  Mr.  Loring  is  there,  he  won't  do  anything  ta 
you.  There  is  nothing  to  be  afraid  of,"  said  Eleanor, 
keeping  the  contempt  out  of  her  face  and  voice  by  a 
strong  effort.  He  followed  her  on  the  street-car 
meekly. 


CHAPTER  X 

ELExlXOR  had  only  been  at  Elmwood  once  or 
twice  since  that  other  hot  da}^  years  ago,  be- 
fore she  was  married,  before  anything  had 
happened  in  her  life,  as  it  seemed  to  her  now.  In 
this  time  the  fields  and  half-finished  streets  had  be- 
come a  well-settled  suburb,  built  up  in  rows  of  small 
houses,  and  there  were  many  more  shops  and  factor- 
ies. The  macadam  road  that  the  Shamrock  Construc- 
tion Company  was  building  that  summer  had  been 
altered  beyond  recognition  almost  throughout  its  en- 
tire length  by  paving  and  cross-streets,  but  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  ice-plant  it  reappeared  in  its 
original  aspect  like  the  rest  of  the  scenery  in  that 
particular  region.  There  stood  the  building,  corru- 
gated iron  walls,  tower  of  water,  weighing-platform 
and  all;  there  was  the  weedy,  dusty  esplanade,  the 
same  all-but-dead  ailanthus  trees,  even  the  scummv 
runlet  of  sewage  in  the  bottom  of  the  ditch  that  she 
remembered.  The  machinery  was  in  motion,  smoke 
rising  from  the  stack.  An  elderly  policeman  with 
grey  hair  was  sitting  on  a  bench  improvised  from  a 
plank  and  a  couple  of  kegs,  in  the  exiguous  shade. 
There  were  numbers  of  men  lounging  about  singly  and 
in  knots  —  so  many,  in  fact,  that,  gathered  together, 
they  would  have  made  a  good-sized  crowd.  They 
looked  curiously  at  Eleanor,  and  some  of  them  knew 
Tom  and  spoke  to  him.  These  conversations  w^re 
carried  on  in  guarded  undertones,  and  whatever  the 

397 


398  THE  RUDDER 

burden  of  tliem,  they  had  no  reassuring  or  encourag- 
ing effect  on  Thomas,  whose  unwholesome  face  pres- 
ently took  on  a  look  of  even  greater  perturbation  than 
before.  He  addressed  Eleanor  huskily,  pulling  at 
her  sleeve  as  she  picked  her  way  towards  the  little 
office-stoop. 

"  Mrs.  Loring !     Say,  Mrs.  Loring !  " 

"Well?'' 

"  Wj,  I  —  I  —  I  don't  b'lieve  we'd  better  try  to  get 
no  ice  here,"  whispered  Tom  in  agitation,  his  eyes 
darting  fearfully  to  both  sides  of  him,  behind  him, 
here,  there  and  everywhere  but  at  her,  or  straight 
ahead.  "  We'd  oughta  try  some  of  the  other  places, 
I  b'lieve." 

"  But  we're  here  now,  and  we  must  get  the  ice  and 
get  back  to  your  wife  as  soon  as  we  can !  "  argued 
Eleanor  sharply;  and  then  some  new  expression  on 
his  features  moved  her  to  ask:  "What  is  the  mat- 
ter? " 

"  Mr.  Loring's  here  an' —  he's  in  the  office  —  an' — 
an'  they's  some  of  the  men  here  —  that  fellow  I  was 
talking  to  he  says  —  they  say  — " 

"  Well,  I  should  like  to  see  Mr.  Loring.  Mr.  Lor- 
ing's the  very  person  I  w^ant  to  see.  Why  are  you  so 
afraid  of  him?  I'm  sure  Mr.  Loring  doesn't  care  a 
thing  about  you  one  way  or  the  other.  Even  if  he 
did,  even  if  he  w^as  very  angry  with  you,  he  wouldn't 
do  anything  to  you,"  Eleanor  said  in  utter  exaspera- 
tion. She  told  herself  that  she  prefered  his  wife 
with  all  her  fury  to  this  abject  creature ;  no  such  cow- 
ardly fears  would  have  swayed  Mrs.  Tom,  or  any  other 
mother  for  that  matter. 

But  Eleanor  was  mistaken  in  her  estimate  of  Tom's 
motives;  for  once  in  his  life,  he  was  not  thinking 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  300 

altogether  of  liimself.  "  I  don't  mean  him  —  Mr. 
Loring  —  I  don't  mean  just  Jiim — I  mean  all  of  'em 
—  all  them  men.  Don't  you  see  they  ain't  selling  no 
ice?  Don't  you  see  they  ain't  nobody  but  kinda 
roughs  round  here?  An'  just  that  one  old  orf'cer  — 
Jic  couldn't  do  nothing,  if  they  —  if  they  was  to  start 
somepin'.  YouM  oughta  not  be  here,  Mrs.  Loring  — 
honest,  you'd  oughta  not  be  here !  "  Tom  mumbled  im- 
ploringly. 

"  Pshaw ! "  said  Eleanor,  all  her  stubborn  pride 
and  spirit  roused.  She  glanced  around  imperiously. 
*^  Nothing's  going  to  happen.  That  man  was  just  try- 
ing to  frighten  you.  Look,  there's  some  one  coming  to 
get  ice  now.     Nothing's  going  to  hai^pen." 

Tom  looked  at  her,  at  the  approaching  automo- 
bile, at  the  closed  office-door,  at  the  groups  of  men, 
at  the  solitary  policeman,  and  finally  at  Eleanor 
again;  the  sweat  broke  out  on  his  forehead,  but,  let 
it  be  said  to  his  honour,  he  did  not  desert  her.  Know- 
ing to  the  full  the  risk  they  ran  —  a  risk  undreamed- 
of by  Eleanor  herself  —  knowing  it  well,  Tom  did  his 
poor  best  to  be  a  man. 

"That  ain't  nobody  after  ice.  That's  Devitt,"  a 
man  near  them  said,  as  the  car  drew  up.  The  men 
began  to  close  in  towards  it;  Chauncey  stood  up; 
there  were  two  others  in  the  automobile  with  him, 
but  they  remained  seated.  The  office-door  opened, 
and  Mr.  Loring  came  out  on  the  stoop,  with  his  left 
arm  in  a  sling;  a  curious  kind  of  rumble  ran  through 
the  crowd  at  sight  of  him ;  and  then  there  was  a  bar  of 
silence. 

Eleanor  had  started,  and  crimsoned,  and  involun- 
tarily retreated  a  step  or  two,  suddenly  feeling  that 
she  did  not  want  Chauncey  to  see  her ;  of  course  they 


400  THE  RUDDER 

must  meet  again,  sooner  or  later,  but  not  here,  not 
now,  not  until  she  was  better  prepared.  She  ve- 
hemently hoped  that  he  would  miss  her  in  this 
crowd ;  and  then,  glancing  around  once  more,  realised 
in  a  startled  instant,  that  she  could  hardly  escape  no- 
tice, being  the  only  woman  there,  that  these  men  were 
indeed  a  sinister-looking  set,  as  poor  Tom  had  warned 
her,  that,  in  fine,  something  was  going  to  happen, 
after  all ! 

"  Mr.  Loring !  "  Chauncey  said,  his  voice  carrying 
easily  across  the  space  that  separated  them.  '^  Good 
morning,  sir !  " 

Old  Amzi  looked  at  him  and  said :  ^^  What  do  you 
want?  " 

"  Mr.  Loring,  you  understand  without  doubt  the 
arrangements  that  have  been  made  for  the  purchase 
of  ice?  That  is  to  say,  that  none  is  to  be  sold  except 
in  case  of  sickness  or  a  physician's  written  —  er  — 
guarantee? "  said  Chauncey,  rolling  his  syllables 
slowly  and  splendidly. 

'^'^  I  haven't  made  any  such  arrangement,''  said  Mr. 
Loring. 

A  formidable  sound  arose  from  the  crowd,  but  died 
down  as  Chauncey  began  speaking,  with  a  fine  ges- 
ture. "  Mr.  Loring,  I  entreat  you ! "  he  said  in  his 
deep,  moving  voice.  "  Don't  stand  in  the  way  of  our 
endeavours  to  bring  about  peace  and  mutual  good- 
will. Above  all,  don't  inflict  more  suffering  on  the 
public.  I  have  just  come  from  the  mayor;  his  honour 
knows  that  we  are  peaceable  and  law-abiding  citizens. 
But  it  is  unwise  to  provoke  people  by  —  by  unrea- 
sonable stubbornness,  and  by  —  er  —  a  show  of  armed 
force,"  said  Chauncey,  glancing  at  the  policeman. 
^*We  have  patiently  tried  to  convince  you  that  our 


BEEAD  AND  CIRCUSES  401 

demands  are  just;  we  deplore  the  violence  that  has 
resulted  from  your  previous  — " 

Mr.  Loring  made  a  movement  with  his  free  hand 
which  had  the  effect  of  arresting  the  other's  fluent  and 
resonant  speech.  "  You  want  me,  as  I  understand  it, 
to  let  some  of  your  men  come  here  and  sit  in  my  office 
and  check  off  my  sales,  and  dictate  to  me  who  I'm  to 
sell  to.  That's  Avhat  you've  been  doing  in  the  other 
places,  so  I  take  it  that's  w^hat  you  expect  to  do  here." 
He  paused,  and  as  his  eyes  rested  on  them  the  two 
men  in  the  car  rose,  making  ready  to  descend. 
^'  Well,  I  refuse.  I  won't  allow  anything  of  the  sort," 
said  old  Amzi  strongly  and  deliberately,  w^atching 
them. 

One  of  them  hesitated,  but  the  other,  .grinning, 
pushed  open  the  door  and  jumped  out,  and  his  com- 
panion, after  a  second,  followed  him.  They  moved 
towards  Mr.  Loring  who,  from  his  elevated  position, 
eyed  them  undisturbed,  though  others  drew  together 
in  their  w^ake,  and  ominous  noises  seemed  to  be  com- 
ing from  all  sides.  His  attitude  was  much  more  con- 
fident than  that  of  the  labour-leader,  who  stood  in  the 
automobile  watching,  too,  but  with  an  indefinable 
effect  of  confusion  or  uncertainty.  All  the  while 
the  machinery  throbbed  steadily,  the  w^ater  purled, 
the  pneumatic  hoist  screamed  at  regular  intervals, 
and  a  switch-engine  with  some  cars  ground  along  the 
tracks  behind  the  factory,  the  train-crew  craning 
from  their  stations  to  see  what  was  going  forward. 

Chauncey  finally  called  out  something  which  was 
lost  in  the  increasing  racket;  there  was  a  kind  of  ir- 
resolute movement  in  the  crowed  of  men.  Somebody 
shouted  at  Mr.  Loring  a  question  or  perhaps  a  threat 
which  was  unintelligible  to  Eleanor,  but  old  Amzi 


402  THE  RUDDER 

answered  at  the  top  of  liis  lungs  and  most  unequivo- 
cally. "  I  don't  take  orders  from  any  of  you.  You've 
tried  to  wreck  my  jjlace,  and  you've  tried  to  kill  me ; 
you  can  try  again  I     But  I'll  see  you  all  to  — " 

The  hooting  of  the  freight-engine  drowned  the  last 
words ;  it  was  reinforced  by  a  fusillade  of  honks  from 
an  automobile-horn,  and  as  the  train  drew  over  the 
crossing,  this  second  automobile  came  into  view 
charging  over  the  tracks  and  directly  at  the  mob  at 
such  a  rate  of  speed  that  they  gave  back  involuntarily, 
opening  out  a  little.  It  halted  within  fifty  feet  of  the 
porch.  The  hood  was  folded  back,  so  that  there  was 
visible  inside  a  tall,  brawny  young  man  with  a  light 
suit  of  clothes  extremely  well-cut  and  well-fitting, 
with  an  undershot  jaw,  a  heavy  layer  of  sunburn,  and 
a  strong  scowl  the  iDermanency  of  which  was  indi- 
cated by  two  upright  creases  betw^een  his  quick  little 
eyes;  these  last,  without  any  semblance  of  haste  or 
effort,  comprehended  the  place  in  one  glance.  In 
similar  style  leisurely  and  composed,  yet  without  a 
single  wasted  movement,  he  got  up,  opened  the  door, 
stepped  out.     He  addressed  Mr.  Loring. 

"  'Lo,  Dad !  " 

"  Xo ! "  said  Amzi  One,  allowing  his  son  a  brief 
glance. 

"  Some  crowd  you've  got  here,"  commented  the  lat- 
ter agreeably.     Mr.  Loring  grunted. 

The  younger  Amzi  shoved  his  straw  hat  a  trifle 
back,  thrust  both  hands  into  his  trousers  pockets, 
planted  his  feet  apart,  and  in  this  easy  posture  again 
surveyed  the  scene.  He  might  well  have  been  dis- 
quieted by  it,  but  no  trace  of  any  such  emotion,  or  of 
anything  resembling  anger  or  excitement  showed  on 
his  prize-fighter  countenance;  he  looked  amused,  if 


BKEAD  AND  Cir.CUSES  403 

anything,  but  there  was  a  quality  in  this  amusement 
which  was  hardly  satisfj'ing;  it  suggested  a  jolly  ogre. 
Of  the  forty  or  fifty  men  there  was  probably  not  one 
who  did  not  know  who  he  was  and  his  reputation  for 
competent  sayagery.  They  stood  undecided,  eyei'y- 
body  looking  to  his  neighbour  for  the  next  moye;  the 
policeman  tardily  advanced ;  and  in  the  instant  Amzi 
Two  spoke. 

'^  Haying  a  picnic,  hey?"  said  he.  And  here- 
upon, scarcely  stirring  from  his  place,  he  reached  out 
with  a  motion  astoundingly  quick  yet  calculated  like 
a  wing-shot,  like  the  unerring  pounce  of  a  cat,  plucked 
a  man  from  among  those  nearest,  twirled  him  about, 
and  picked  a  reyolyer  from  somewhere  in  his  gar- 
ments, all  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  The  half  a 
dozen  immediate  witnesses  had  no  more  than  gasped 
when  the  thing  was  done;  those  on  the  outskirts  did 
not  know  what  had  happened ;  the  news  travelled  out 
to  them  as  they  saw  the  glittering  arc  of  the  weapon's 
flight  as  Amzi  Two  tossed  it  towards  the  policeman, 
who,  taken  a  little  aback,  fumbled,  dropped,  and  then 
retrieved  it  gallantly. 

"  Good  boy,  George  I  Sign  you  on  I ''  said  Amzi 
Two  approvingly.  Then  he  spoke  to  the  late  o^Tier  of 
the  revolver  squirming  ineffectually  in  his  grasp. 
"  Tut,  tut  I  Little  men  shouldn't  carry  guns.  ^Tiy, 
you  might  have  hurt  somebody,  I  saw  you  go  to  pull 
it,  you  know  —  Xow,  now,  it's  not  a  bit  nice  to  talk 
that  way.  That  was  a  real  bad  word.  Why,  I  be- 
lieve you're  trying  to  hit  me.  Oh,  I  see !  You're  try- 
ing to  hit  yourself.  Why,  look  at  the  little  man  try- 
ing to  shove  his  own  face  in  with  his  own  little 
fisties ! ''  said  Amzi  Two,  obliging  the  other  to  per- 
form   this    act    very    vigorously.     "  Right    on    the 


404  THE  KUDDER 

smeller!  Ain't  he  cute,  boys!  Ouch!  Look  out! 
Don't  hammer  on  that  one  eye  all  the  time!  Paste 
the  other  once  in  a  while.  See,  like  this !  Oh,  watch 
the  little  man  trying  to  eat  dirt !  All  right,  you  can 
eat  dirt  if  you  want  to.     There  now  — !  " 

It  did  not  last  thirty  seconds ;  the  mob  gazed  upon 
it  spell-bound.  Mr.  Loring  from  his  rostrum  began 
to  speak  once,  but  on  some  second  thought  checked 
himself,  looking  on  with  the  rest.  Young  Amzi 
straightened  himself,  and  sent  around  his  formidably 
jocular  glance. 

^^  Anybody  else  looking  for  anything?  "  he  inquired. 

It  appeared  that  nobody  else  w^as  looking  for  any- 
thing. 

^^  Say,  Mr.  Loring  — "  the  policeman  began. 

"  All  right,  officer,  run  him  in  I  The  charge  is  car- 
rying concealed  weapons,"  interrupted  Amzi  Two 
promptly.  "Concealed  weapons  —  get  that?"  He 
dusted  his  hands  lightly  together.  And  now  his  eye 
lit  upon  the  other  automobile  as  if  for  the  first  time. 
<-  Why,  look  who's  here !  My  old  friend  Tim  Devitt  — 
Cliauncey!  '^  he  trolled,  in  a  raucous  falsetto.  "  How^ 
do,  Cliauncey! ''  An  hysterical  snigger  ran  through 
the  crowd. 

Chauncey  had  been  standing  in  the  car,  all  his  fac- 
ulties a  muddle  of  indecision,  conscious  helplessness, 
conscious  inabilit}'  to  think,  and  something  very  much 
like  fright.  He  did  not  lack  physical  courage,  but  as 
a  matter  of  fact  he  had  never  been  in  such  a  position 
as  this  before ;  he  had  addressed  crowds,  he  had  never 
been  called  upon  to  handle  one.  Dalton  was  the  man 
for  that  —  Dalton  or  some  other  equally  potent  and 
ruthless  business-agent.  On  a  sudden  it  had  been 
made  hideously  j)lain  to  him  that  his  oratory  was 


BREAD  AXD  CIRCUSES  405 

powerless  to  prevent  these  men  from  doing  all  that 
Mr.  Loring  defied  them  to  do;  he  saw  the  place  laid 
waste,  old  Amzi's  dead  body  under  the  ruins,  him- 
self standing  by,  incredibly  and  horribly  futile.  A 
hundred  sounding  phrases  with  which  he  had  been 
wont  to  "  sway  the  multitude  ''  as  he  fondly  imagined, 
swept  through  his  mind  and  in  one  moment  of  terri- 
fied enlightenment  he  knew  them  for  the  idle  stuff 
they  were,  and  himself  for  a  mouther  of  cheap  and 
empty  catchwords.  Had  he  been  a  genuine  fanatic, 
riot  and  bloodshed  would  have  mattered  nothing  to 
him;  but  Chauncey  was  not  genuine;  except  as 
directly  concerned  himself,  he  had  never  done  an  hour 
of  genuine  thinking  in  his  life,  or  felt  a  single  gen- 
uine emotion.  Xow  in  the  mill-race  of  events,  he  was 
without  one  rock  of  principle  to  cling  to;  he  could 
only  remember  Dalton  and  the  newspapers. 

It  was  not  altogether  to  his  discredit  that  the  relief 
with  which  he  perceived  the  danger  to  Mr.  Loring 
pass,  was  seasoned  with  a  furious  mortification.  If 
he  had  ever  really  had  any  ascendency  over  this  crowd 
of  men  it  was  gone  — gone  beyond  recall,  snatched 
from  him  by  this  big,  swaggering,  jeering  bully  in 
whose  hateful  presence  Chauncey  found  himself 
standing  to-day,  as  of  old,  dumb  and  out  of  coun- 
tenance—  maddeningly  dumb  and  out  of  counte- 
nance. Set  at  naught,  dispossessed  with  contemptu- 
ous ease  by  a  man  whom  he  told  himself  was  his  in- 
ferior jet  whom  he  knew  he  could  not  cope  with  —  it 
was,  let  us  allow,  not  altogether  monstrous  that 
Chauncey  wished  Mr.  Loring's  salvation  had  been 
postponed,  or  had  come  about  some  other  way.  The 
trouble  was  that  young  Amzi's  advantage  was  not 
wholly  one  of  mere  muscle ;  he  was  playing  the  grand 


406  THE  EUDDER 

role ;  the  other  young  man  recognised  the  fact  against 
his  own  will,  and  hated  him  the  more  for  it. 

'^  Mr.  Loring/'  he  began,  stammering,  getting  him- 
self together  with  tremendous  effort.  "  You  come 
here  into  the  midst  of  these  toilers  —  you  come  here 
—  er  —  with  the  presumption  of  your  class,  riding  in 
your  automobile — '' 

"  That's  all  right,  I  pay  for  my  automobile,  Tim  — 
Chauncey! ''  Amzi  Two  broke  in,  uttering  the  last 
word  in  the  same  high  and  affected  fashion  which 
brought  a  guffaw  from  the  audience  this  time.  "  Who 
pays  for  yours? ''  he  demanded  with  sudden  rough- 
ness. "Hey?  Why,  the  union  does.  That's  what 
they're  striking  for,  ain't  they?  Sure!  Here's  one 
of  'em  now ! ''  With  a  motion  as  unexpected  and  as 
supremely  dexterous  as  before,  he  jerked  forward  the 
unlucky  Tom  Morehead  whom  some  current  had 
swept  near.  "  Here's  a  striker  I  Look  at  him ! 
Ain't  he  a  bird?  Where's  your  automobile,  bo? 
Hey?  You  haven't  got  any?  Want  to  help  pay  for 
Chauncey's,  don't  you?  Yeah,  like  hell  you  do! 
Want  to  hand  the  shuff  his,  too  —  don't  forget  that, 
Clarence !  "  He  wrested  away  the  half-dollar  which 
the  other  was  clutching,  and  flipped  it  into  the  car 
where  it  fell  at  the  chauffeur's  feet;  the  latter  hesi- 
tated a  second  then  picked  it  up,  grinning.  Every- 
body laughed  again. 

"  Shut  your  mouth,  Montmorency,  or  I'll  shut  it  for 
you ! "  Amzi  Two  wittily  admonished  his  victim,  jog- 
ging him  to  and  fro  to  the  vast  diversion  of  his  com- 
rades. "Hey?  You  wanted  icef  You  wanted  ice? 
For  the  hahyf  You've  got  a  nerve !  "  ejaculated  Amzi 
Two,  holding  the  whining,  struggling  wretch  at  arms' 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  407 

length  easily,  and  surveying  liim  in  ferocious  mock 
admiration.  "  YouVe  got  a  nerve  coming  round  here 
to  buy  ice  for  the  hahij!  Why,  say,  Clifford,  you're 
striking^  you  know.  You  don't  want  ice!  You've 
got  to  save  your  dough  to  pay  Chauncey.  He  does 
such  a  lot  for  you!  My,  my,  ain't  you  ashamed?'' 
Still  holding  the  other  he  turned  again  towards 
Chauncey.  ^'  Say,  here's  one  of  your  men  going  back 
on  you.  Wants  to  buy  ice  for  his  lahjj!  Can  you 
beat  that?"  He  affected  to  examine  Tom  as  if\he 
latter  had  been  some  si^ecies  of  noxious  insect. 
'^  God  d — n  you,  did  God  make  you?  "  said  Amzi  Two 
genially.  "Better  let  him  go,  Chauncey!  S'long, 
Claude !     Bye-bye !  " 

He  flipped  Tom  away  with  scarcely  more  effort  than 
he  had  put  forth  for  the  half-dollar,  and  the  crowd 
hooted  servilely.  "Anybody  else  want  anything?'' 
Amzi  Two  queried  once  more. 

No,  nobody  else  displayed  the  least  desire  for  any- 
thing, unless  it  might  be  a  change  of  scene;  for  sun- 
dry members  of  the  gathering  were  now  unobtrusively 
retiring  from  it. 

"  Make  'em  all  go  'way,  Chauncey!  Make  all  those 
rude  men  go  'way !  "  Young  Amzi  adjured  their  some- 
time leader.  "  Go  'way  yourself !  "  He  flapped  a 
huge  hand  at  Chauncey  lackadaisically.  "  You  make 
me  50  tired !  " 

Chauncey,  in  a  lamentable  fluster,  attempted  to 
rally  his  late  followers.  "  I  will  see  Mr.  Dalton  —  I 
will  take  to  him  —  Mr.  Dalton  shall  know  of  this 
outrage  — " 

"  That's  right,  Chauncey,  see  Jack  Dalton !  '^ 
shrilled  the  tormenter.     "  Get  him  to  learn  you  an- 


408  THE  KUDDER 

other  piece!  Tell  Jack  to  come  himself  next  time, 
or  send  a  man !  Why,  Chauncej,  you  look  kinda  mad ! 
Don't  get  mad  at  me  — !  " 

For  Chauncey,  in  a  spurt  of  rage,  jumped  to  the 
ground,  and  strode  towards  him  with  clenched  hands. 
"  You  — ! ''  he  choked  out.  It  was  an  act  of  sheer 
folly,  as  he  knew,  but  he  could  not  have  restrained 
himself,  had  he  believed  the  gallows  would  be  his  por- 
tion. 

Alas,  alas,  something  much  worse  than  the  gallows 
awaited  him !  "  Oh,  my,  don't  hurt  me,  Chauncey, 
I'll  be  good ! "  bawled  the  other  in  burlesque  terror. 
And,  deftly  evading  Chauncey's  unskilled  fists,  he 
seized  him  by  the  collar  and  waistband  in  the  posture 
detestably  familiar  to  their  college  days.  ''  Walk 
Spanish !  "  roared  Amzi  Two  with  horrid  laughter ; 
and,  painful  to  relate,  Chauncey  did  walk  Spanish, 
ungently  assisted  by  the  other's  knee,  back  to  the  car 
—  into  the  car !  The  chauffeur  inexplicably  had  it  in 
readiness ;  it  rolled  off  in  a  tempest  of  ignoble  merri- 
ment; and  presently  the  crowd  somehow  had  melted 
clean  away ! 

Amzi  the  younger  strolled  over  to  the  porch  where 
his  father  was  still  standing.  The  two  men  looked  at 
each  other  for  a  moment,  in  embarrassment,  quite 
without  words. 

"  Well,  son,  you  stood  'em  up  in  great  shape !  "  said 
old  Amzi  at  length. 

The  other  made  an  inarticulate  sound.  He  settled 
his  belt  and  trousers,  and  drew  down  his  hat  to  shade 
his  eyes.  "  Gee,  this  sure  is  one  hot  day ! "  he  re- 
marked, squinting  at  the  horizon. 

"How'd  you  happen  to  come  out,  Amzi?" 

"  Well  ...  I  ...  I  had  a  kinda  hunch  .  .  ." 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  409 

"  Uh-huli,"  said  Mr.  Loring.  "  Will  you  be  out  to 
the  house  this  evening?  " 

^^  Why,  no,  I  guess  not.  I  guess  I'll  keep  right  on 
at  the  hotel  with  the  rest  of  the  fellows.  It's  more 
convenient,  vou  know." 

"  Uh-huh,"  said  the  older  Amzi,  again,  without  dis- 
appointment. 

"  Does  that  hurt  you  much,  father?  " 

Loring  senior  wagged  his  head  negatively. 
^'  Xump  I  Some  fever  in  it,  of  course,  but  it's  getting 
along  all  right,  the  doctor  says.  Take  about  six 
weeks,  he  says.  I  can  waggle  my  fingers  a  little,  see? 
I  thought  at  first  it  was  lucky  to  be  my  left  arm,  but, 
by  George,  it's  pretty  near  as  much  trouble  as  if  it  was 
my  right!  Funny  how  much  you  do  with  your  left 
hand  without  noticing  it." 

"  Sure !     You've  got  to  use  it  all  the  time." 

They  both  gazed  absently  about  in  every  direction 
except  at  each  other.  "  Old  place  looks  just  the 
same,"  said  Amzi  Two. 

"  Yes  ...  I  thought  they  were  going  to  rush  you 
one  time,  Amzi.  I  started  to  holler  at  you  to  look  out, 
and  then  I  thought  to  myself,  better  not !  He's  hold- 
ing 'em  all  right,  I  thought  to  myself.  Better  not  mix 
in  till  I  have  to  I     So  I  didn't." 

"  Hungh  !  That  bunch !  "  grunted  the  younger  man 
in  immeasurable  scorn. 

"  Well,  they  might  have  rushed  you  any  time,  you 
know  that/'  his  father  insisted.  ^'  Only  you  got  'em 
going.     They  didn't  have  the  nerve." 

"Hungh!  That  bunch!"  said  Amzi  Two  again. 
The  next  instant  his  face  changed;  he  stepped  back 
involuntarily  with  a  loud  ejaculation. 

Hey?"  said  Mr.  Loring  alertly,  bracing  himself 


a 


410  THE  EUDDEE 

for    some    new    encounter.     His    eyes    followed    the 
other's.     '^  Eleanor!  '^  he  shouted  out. 

Eleanor  came  up  to  them,  paling  and  flushing,  ex- 
cited, her  eyes  very  bright.  She  looked  at  Amzi  Two 
in  stark  admiration  for  that  physical  superiority 
which,  when  all  is  said,  is  man's  strongest  appeal  to 
woman ;  she  was  proud  of  her  husband,  strong,  arro- 
gant and  fearless.  At  the  moment  Amzi  Two  might 
have  done  with  her  what  he  chose ;  but  he  had  no  idea 
of  doing  anything;  he  merely  stood  and  stared.  His 
father  who  had  twice  the  younger  man's  intelligence 
and  power  of  observation  did  indeed  glimpse  dimly 
something  of  Eleanor's  feeling;  the  staggering 
thought  visited  him  that  she  had  come  there  seeking 
Amzi  to  "  make  up  " !  He  dismissed  it  on  the  instant, 
as  being  totally  foreign  to  her  character.  But  why 
was  she  there  at  all?  The  idea  that  she  might  have 
witnessed  the  scene  just  passed,  rendered  it  all  at  once 
intolerably  brutal  to  old  Loring  whose  theories  about 
a  woman's  place  and  functions  were  those  of  an  earlier 
and  perhaps  more  fastidious  generation.  "  Good 
Lord,  Eleanor ! "  he  uttered  in  a  shocked  voice. 
''  What  on  earth  — ?  " 

"  'Lo,  Nellie ! "  Amzi  Two  managed  to  say,  simul- 
taneously. 

"  Well,  Amzi  — ! "  said  Eleanor.  She  began  to 
laugh  hysterically. 

Amzi  Two  scowled,  eyeing  her  doubtfully.  Having 
a  well-founded  distrust  of  Eleanor's  moods  he  was 
not  certain,  in  the  present  instance,  whether  she 
was  laughing  with  him  or  at  him,  but  thought  it 
most  likely  to  be  the  latter.  "  What're  you  doing 
round  here  anyhow?"  he  demanded  almost  threaten- 
ingly. 


BREAD  AXD  CIRCUSES  411 

But  Eleanor  had  already  ceased  to  laugli ;  in  truth 
it  was  at  herself  that  she  had  been  laughing,  at  cer- 
tain ironies  of  the  situation  unguessed  by  Amzi  Two. 
She  replied  to  them  both,  explaining  concisely.  "  The 
man's  name  is  Tom  Morehead  —  you  remember  him?  '' 
she  said  to  Loring  senior  at  the  end. 

"  Yes.     But  —  where  is  he?  " 

^^I  don-t  know.  I  think  he  ran  away.  He's  the 
same  man  you  took  the  money  from/'  Eleanor  said  to 
young  Amzi  in  a  matter-of-fact  way.  "  It  doesn't 
make  any  difference  about  him.  I'll  get  the  ice,  if 
you'll  let  me  have  it.  IVe  ever  so  many  poor  people 
that  I'd  like  to  get  some  for.  I  can  send  a  wagon,  or 
get  it  downtown  some  way." 

There  was  a  short  pause.  Old  xlmzi,  looking  at 
the  pair  in  front  of  him,  waited  a  reasonable  while 
for  one  or  other  of  them  to  act;  then  took  command 
himself.     He  was  a  business  man. 

"All  right,  Eleanor.  You  go  into  the  office  and 
wait  a  minute.  I'll  see  about  the  ice  for  you.  Well, 
now,  Amzi  — " 

"  I  guess  I'll  be  moving,  Dad,"  said  the  other  Amzi. 
^^  Huh  —  er  —  good-bye,  Nellie." 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Eleanor. 

She  went  into  the  office,  and  after  a  moment  Mr. 
Loring  came  in  and  sat  down  at  the  desk,  and  drew 
the  telephone  towards  him,  frowning  a  little  at  the 
inconvenience  of  having  only  one  hand  to  use.  "  Just 
a  minute !  "  he  said  to  her.  "  I'll  call  up  Garry,  and 
have  him  come  out  and  take  you  downtown  in  the 
machine.  You  can  take  some  ice  to  this  sick  woman 
and  baby  —  whoever  you've  got  on  hand  —  right  now, 
and  send  for  whatever  you  want  later."  And  hav- 
ing issued  his  orders,  he  hung  up  the  instrument,  and 


412  THE  RUDDER 

turned  towards  lier.  "  Funny  about  that  Morehead 
fellow  running  off  I "  he  said  with  a  laugh. 

"  Well,  I  really  ought  not  to  have  made  him  come 
here/'  Eleanor  said.  "  He  knew  that  you  wouldn't 
let  him  have  any  ice  —  a  striking  employe !  I  might 
have  known  it  myself,  but  I  — "  Mr.  Loring's  expres- 
sion halted  her. 

^^  Xot  sell  him  any  ice?  Because  of  his  being  on 
strike?"  old  Amzi  exclaimed.  "What  put  that  into 
his  head?  " 

"  Why,  isn't  it  so?  Wasn't  that  what  Amzi  meant? 
I  thought  you  would  let  me  have  it  though  —  I  was 
sure  you  would  let  me  have  it  anyhow  — " 

Mr.  Loring  sat  and  looked  at  her  in  perplexity  and 
actual  concern.  "  Eleanor,"  he  said  at  last.  "  You 
know  me.  You  can't  suppose  that  I  would  refuse  ice 
to  anybody.  It's  a  question  of  women's  and  chil- 
dren's lives  —  it's  a  question  of  common-sense  and 
decenc3\  Morehead  can  have  ice  like  anybody  else. 
I'm  not  going  to  make  any  distinctions.  Why,  that's 
what's  made  most  of  this  trouble  —  I  mean  my  refus- 
ing to  knuckle  down  to  a  set  of  fellows  like  Dalton 
and  that  blatherskite  Devitt,  and  letting  them  tell  me 
what  I'm  to  do.  What  Amzi  said?  Why,  Eleanor, 
didn't  you  know  that  Amzi  was  just  bawling  'em  out? 
He  wanted  to  scare  'em,  and  he  did  scare  'em  —  he 
scared  'em  blue!  That  was  all  that  talk  was  for. 
Didn't  you  know  that?  " 

"  Why,  no,  I  —  I  thought  he  was  in  earnest  — " 

Old  Amzi  gave  her  another  thoughtful  survey. 
^''  You  weren't  frightened !  "  he  said. 

^^Mef  cried  out  Eleanor,  ungrammatical  in  her 
astonishment.  ^^ Me  frightened?  Why,  no!  There 
wasn't  anything  for  me  to  be  frightened  about.     At 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  413 

least,  I  don't  think  so  —  I  never  remember  to  have 
been  frightened  in  my  whole  life,  so  of  course  I  can't 
tell !  "  she  added  naively. 

It  made  Amzi  One  smile.  "  No,  you're  not  the 
kind  to  frighten  easy,"  he  remarked.  "  You're  hon- 
est. But  do  you  know  w^hat  was  the  matter  w^ith  'em, 
Eleanor?  I'll  tell  you.  If  they  had  really  believed 
they  were  doing  right,  Amzi  couldn't  have  bluffed 
'em  —  he  couldn't  have  made  'em  back  down  that  way. 
But  there  wasn't  a  man  in  that  gang  of  hoodlums  and 
jailbirds  that  didn't  know  they  were  all  nothing  but 
trash.  That  Devitt  fellow,  spouting  round  about  the 
rights  of  labour  and  all  the  rest  of  the  stuff,  he  don't 
believe  in  what  he's  saying  —  he's  just  going  over 
what  he's  learned  off  like  a  piece  out  of  a  book  —  like 
one  of  these  phonograjDh  records.  You  could  hire 
him  to  talk  on  any  side.  That's  the  kind  he  is  and  it's 
the  cheapest  kind  on  earth." 

^^  I  think  I  knew  he  was  a  sham  all  along,''  said 
Eleanor  to  herself  rather  than  to  her  companion. 
But  old  Amzi  took  her  up  promj^tly. 

"  Hey?  You  mean  the  minute  he  began  to  talk  this 
morning?  Why,  of  course  you'd  know  he  was  a  sham 
—  anybody  with  as  good  sense  as  you've  got !  "  he  de- 
clared with  a  warmth  of  approval  that  humbled  her 
more  than  the  most  biting  reproof.  "  Of  course  you'd 
be  onto  him  right  off.  Plenty  of  people  aren't, 
though.  Plenty  of  people  think  a  man's  saying  some- 
thing because  he's  stringing  words  together!  Don't 
make  any  difference  how  he  lies  or  blows,  or  what 
kind  of  slush  he  talks.  But  you  put  a  man  like  that 
up  against  the  real  thing,  and  see  what  happens! 
You  saw  this  morning.  He  don't  know  what  to  do! 
He  just  w^ants  to  get  out  of  it!     If  there's  anything 


414  THE  KUDDER 

like  resi^onsibility  or  accountability  going  to  be  put 
on  Mm,  why,  lie's  scared  stiff !  He  runs  off  with  his 
tail  between  his  legs.  It  wouldn't  make  any  differ- 
ence how  wrong  or  crazy  he  was,  if  he  solidly  believed 
he  was  right,  you  couldn't  scare  him.  You  can't  scare 
an  honest  man,  Eleanor  — " 

The  telephone  rang,  and  Mr.  Loring  turned  to  it, 
fumbling  one-handed  with  another  grimace  of  im- 
patience. "Yes,  this  is  the  Elmwood  Ice-Plant. 
.  .  .  Yes,  this  is  him  talking.  .  .  .  Oh,  why,  how  d'ye 
do,  Mr.  Schlochtermaier !  .  .  .  Yes,  sir.  .  .  .  Yes, 
right  along.  .  .  .  Why,  any  quantity  you  say.  .  .  . 
All  right,  we'll  take  care  of  that  for  you.  .  .  ." 


CHAPTER  XI 

NOW  indeed  the  daily  press  had  cause  for 
thankfulness;  every  editor  and  every  re- 
porter on  the  staff  might  throw  up  his  hat 
and  rejoice.  No  event  of  so  much  local  importance 
as  the  abortive  attempt  upon  Mr.  Loring's  Elmwood 
fastness  had  occurred  since  the  Court-House  Riots 
thirty  years  before.  To  be  sure,  nobody  knew  ex- 
actly what  had  happened.  Not  a  word  could  be  got 
out  of  old  Amzi,  though  his  house,  the  Elmwood  office 
and  all  the  other  offices  of  his  "  chain  ''  were  under 
fire  all  day  long.  T.  Chauncey  Devitt  was  at  home 
sick  —  he  had  tonsilitis  —  he  had  been  ailing  for  the 
past  week,  and  the  doctor  had  finally  ordered  him  to 
bed  —  he  was  not  at  the  Elmwood  factory  at  all  on 
the  morning  in  question,  and  therefore  knew  nothing 
about  what  had  taken  place  —  his  condition  was  se- 
rious and  he  positively  could  not  see  anybody ;  it  was 
the  first  time  in  his  career  that  he  had  refused  an  au- 
dience to  a  journalist  I  Business-agent  John  Dalton 
was  sick,  too  —  he  was  in  the  hosf)ital  —  he  was  out 
of  town  —  he  was  anywhere  you  choose,  but  wherever 
that  might  be,  he  was  unapproachable.  Amzi  Loring 
Two  was  found  easily  enough  at  the  Hotel  Preston 
with  the  other  members  of  the  Black  Sox  team,  but 
not  in  a  communicative  mood;  he  was  a  person  to 
make  his  moods  respected.  Nobody  would  talk,  yet 
it  was  erelong  obvious  that  somebody  must  have 
talked!    "Backbone  of  Ice  Strike  Broken!''  one 

415 


416  THE  RUDDER 

i:>aper  announced.  "Where  Are  My  Wandering 
Boys  To-night?  T.  Chauncey's  Union  Gets  Away 
From  Him  ! ''  recited  another  most  flippantly  and 
moreover  falsely,  let  us  hoj)e.  But  by  far  tlie  most 
popular  sentiment  appeared  in  the  Observer: 
"  Eee-Yah  !  At-a-Boy^  Butch  !  "  vociferated  this 
organ  of  public  opinion;  and  fifteen  thousand  people 
went  out  to  see  the  game  that  afternoon. 

In  the  stuffy  seclusion  of  his  bedroom,  Chauncey 
read  these  and  other  items  of  information  or  misin- 
formation in  angry  bewilderment.  He  w^as  like  a 
child  who  should  have  hurt  himself  with  his  favourite 
toy.  He  could  not  understand  what  it  was  that  was 
happening  to  him,  except  that  for  no  adequate  rea- 
son he  was  all  at  once  being  made  the  butt  of  indecent 
ridicule  by  the  very  same  public  which  for  years  had 
admired  and  applauded  him.  Everything  that  had 
taken  place  at  Elmwood  could  have  been  explained; 
Chauncey  felt  that  he  could  have  explained  that  dis- 
aster perfectly  had  he  been  allowed  to ;  he  would  have 
talked,  he  would  have  filled  the  air  with  words,  but 
upon  Dalton's  command  he  must  hold  his  tongue. 

To  tell  the  truth,  the  latter's  admonitions  to  silence 
were  delivered  with  unpleasant  force  and  with  a 
choice  of  language  which  even  his  protege  at  moments 
felt  inclined  to  resent.  "^Tiat  in  hell  you  been  do- 
ing? "  was  the  form  in  which  Mr.  Dal  ton's  first  in- 
quiry was  cast  when  he  called  Chauncey  to  the  tele- 
f>hone,  upon  receiving  a  report  of  the  morning's  hap- 
penings from  some  discreetly  obscure  lieutenant. 
And  after  listening  a  minute  or  so  in  profane  im- 
patience, he  slammed  the  instrument  shut,  and  posted 
up  to  the  Devitt  house,  alarmingly  black  of  counte- 
nance.    However,  he  heard  Chauncey  through  this 


BEEAD  AND  CIRCUSES  417 

time  without  interruption,  grimly  chewing  a  cold 
cigar;  and  sat  and  surveyed  him  afterwards  for  so 
long  a  while  in  the  same  boding  silence  that  Chaun- 
cey  was  relieved  when  the  doorbell  rang  and  Mrs. 
Devitt  came  timidly  to  the  room  with  news  that  a 
gentleman  from  the  Herald  was  downstairs  wanting 
to  see  — 

"Well,  he  don^t!  Tim  don't  see  him,  nor  any- 
body else,  see?''  growled  out  Dalton,  forestalling 
Chauncey  with  a  look  that  sent  the  young  man  back 
to  his  chair  as  effectively  as  a  blow.  "  Tell  'em  he's 
sick  —  tell  "em  he's  dead  —  tell  'em  what  you  d — n 
please ! "  He  shoved  the  cowed  woman  out  of  the 
room  with  the  door  as  he  closed  it. 

"  But  if  I  could  talk  to  him  a  minute  — ''  Chauncey 
expostulated.  "You  don't  kiioic  —  everybody  will 
get  the  —  the  wrong  impression  —  if  I  could  talk  to 
them,  I  could — " 

"  Say,  don't  you  think  you've  about  done  enough 
talking?  "  inquired  Dalton,  turning  a  gloomy  eye  on 
Ms  junior;  and  he  proceeded  in  a  few  brief  but  pithy 
sentences  to  set  forth  his  own  opinion  of  what  Chaun- 
cey had  and  had  not  done  besides  talking,  with  inci- 
dental references  to  his  career  and  capacity  couched 
in  terms  calculated  to  scorch  the  very  woodwork  of 
the  room!     "Yeah,  you'll   talk  and  you'll  explain, 

you boob !  "  he  snarled  at  the  finish.     "  You  will, 

hey?     jS^ot  a  word!     You  hear  me?     I   don't 

know,  don't  I?  You  can  bet  your—"  he  specified 
distinctly  what  Chauncey  could  bet — "you  can  bet 
I  do  know  now! ''     He  surveyed  the  other  in  sardonic 

admiration.     "  By ,  you  got  such  a  front  you  had 

me  bluffed  part*^  way !  But  not  any  more !  "  He 
abruptly  changed  his  tone  to  one  of  scoffing  argument. 


418  THE  RUDDER 

^*  Why  say,  you're  through!  You're  a  dead  one,  only 
you  don't  know  it.  There's  a  lot  of  dead  men  going 
round,  playing  they're  alive,  but  believe  me  they 
ain't!  Know  what  killed  'em?  Why,  they  got  the 
laugh,  same  way  you're  going  to.  There  ain't  any 
way'll  kill  a  man  quicker  and  deader  than  getting  the 
laugh  on  him.  That's  something  you  didn't  know, 
did  you?  Well,  this'll  learn  you,  if  there's  any  learn 
in  you — "  He  pungently  expressed  his  doubts  on 
the  last  point. 

Chauncey  sat  dumb  under  the  other's  scornful  in- 
vective. Dalton  had  been  angry  with  him  once  or 
twice  before,  but  never  to  such  a  pitch  as  this.  Yet 
it  seemed  to  the  young  man  that  this  was  the  time 
of  all  others  when  he  had  been  conspicuously  blame- 
less !  How  could  he  have  foreseen  what  was  going  to 
happen  at  Elmwood?  Or  what  could  he  have  done 
to  prevent  it?  It  was  all  as  much  Dalton's  business 
and  Dalton's  fault  as  his;  Dalton  was  treating  him 
like  a  criminal  when  in  reality  he  was  a  martyr,  not 
even  permitted  to  say  a  word  in  his  own  defence.  He 
would  have  attempted  again  to  set  the  facts  before 
Dalton  in  their  proper  light,  but  the  latter  had  evi- 
dently made  up  his  mind  not  to  listen ;  he  would  not 
understand.  There  was  nothing  for  it,  Chauncey 
felt,  but  to  resign  himself. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  I'd  better  do?  Do  you 
think  I  had  better  stay  here?  I  might  go  somewhere 
—  to  French  Lick,  you  know,  or  somewhere,"  he  ven- 
tured. 

Dalton  got  up.     "  I  don't  give  a  where  you 

go,"  said  he,  walking  deliberately  to  the  door. 

"  I  only  asked  because  I  thought  I  wouldn't  —  that 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  419 

is,  you  wouldn't  —  that  is,  I  guess  I'd  better  not  go 
down  to  the  office  yet  awhile?  "  said  Chauncey. 

The  other  paused  with  his  hand  on  the  knob, 
wheeled  slowly,  and  gave  Chauncey  a  long  look;  he 
smiled  peculiarly,  then  drew  an  exaggeratedly  gentle 
sigh.  "  I  got  to  hand  it  to  you,  Tim,"  he  said,  wag- 
ging his  head ;  "  I  thought  you  only  had  me  bluffed 
about  half.  Honest,  I  did!  But  you  — why,  you 
put  it  all  over  me !  "  said  Mr.  Dalton,  in  sad  surprise. 
"Yes,  sir,  I  was  sure  you  had  something  up  there 
Avhere  your  hat  fits  —  I  never  run  across  a  fellow  be- 
fore that  didn't  have  something  there,  and  I  thought 
you  had,  too.  I  never  got  real  wise  to  you  till  this 
minute."  As  before,  he  changed  his  tone  with  sud- 
den roughness.  "Say,  you're  fired!  F-i-r-e-d!  I 
told  you  you  was  through^  already.  Xow  I'm  saying 
it  again ;  you're  through,  done,  dead  I " 

"  You  —  you  mean  you  don't  want  —  I'm  not  to  — 
to  have  my  position  with  you  any  more?  "  Chauncey 
faltered  in  abysmal  confusion. 

"  He's  got  me ! "  said  Dalton,  apostrophising  the 
ceiling.  Then  he  brought  his  glance  to  rest  on 
Chauncey  again.  "  You're  on,  Tim !  By  I  be- 
gun to  think  I'd  have  to  call  your  mother  a  ! 

Come  to  think,  though,  I  ain't  sure  you'd  have  quit 
on  your  own  hook  even  for  that!  ^^ 

He  went.  Chauncey  sat  for  a  long  while  among 
the  fragments  of  his  pinchbeck  world.  He  did  not 
know  that  it  was  pinchbeck ;  he  had  had  no  enduring 
revelations.  He  was  troubled  mainly  by  the  discov- 
ery that  he  must  reconstruct  his  scheme  of  life,  leav- 
ing out  two  such  fundamental  elements  as  Dalton 
and  the  Federation.     One  cannot  be  a  labour-leaden 


420  THE  RUDDER 

or  a  leader  of  any  kind  without  somebody  to  follow 
one ;  even  Chauncey  could  perceive  that  anomaly.  It 
never  occurred  to  him  to  doubt  Dalton's  word  or 
power ;  he  knew  he  was  indeed  "  through  ''  if  Dalton 
said  so.  His  mind  revolved  aimlessly  about  the  idea. 
It  was  not  until  some  time  later  that  he  remembered 
there  were  other  problems  besides  the  Labour  prob- 
lem, about  which  an  orator  of  his  unusual  gifts  might 
be  equally  eloquent  with  equal  success  sesthetically 
and  —  ahem!  —  commercially.  There  are  just  as 
good  fish  in  the  sea,  in  short,  as  ever  were  caught. 
He  had  already  been  sought  by  magazine  editors,  by 
lyceum  bureaus  and  caterers  to  newspaper  syndicates 
and  the  popular-lecture  platform.  Eventually,  as 
we  all  know,  T.  Chauncey  Devitt  arrived  at  a  dis- 
tinction in  these  fields  which  eclipsed  even  his  earlier 
I)erformances.     He  is  a  great  man. 

At  the  moment,  however,  Chauncey's  outlook  was 
very  bleak.  It  was  not  until  he  had  remained  housed 
and  gloomy,  denying  himself  to  every  one,  for  two  or 
three  days,  that  the  pose  gradually  assumed  a  dra- 
matic aspect  to  him,  like  that  of  Napoleon  in  defeat. 
There  was  comfort  in  the  thought.  The  melancholy 
remoteness  of  his  bearing  increased  to  such  a  degree 
that  his  mother  felt  herself  in  a  fair  way  to  go  dis- 
tracted with  anxiety.  Norah  had  no  conception  of 
what  had  taken  place;  she  knew  only  that  Timmie 
was  in  trouble  and  that  Mr.  Loring  and  Jack  Dalton, 
bad  luck  to  them,  were  somehow  at  the  bottom  of  it. 
She  faithfully  turned  away  the  newspaper-men  who 
supposed  the  vagueness  of  her  answers  to  be  inten- 
tional and  credited  her  accordingly  with  profound 
guile  I  Poor  Norah  was  afraid  of  them,  afraid  of  the 
neighbours,  afraid  that  Chauncey  was  going  to  pine 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  421 

away  and  die  of  some  mysterious  ailment,  afraid  of 
Dalton,  and  to  cap  all  afraid  to  tell  her  liusband  a 
single   one   of   lier   terrors.     Mike   was   so   changed 

these  days. 

"  Dalton  was  here  the  day/'  she  did  indeed  venture 
'  to  say  across  the  supper-table,  w^hile  still  smoulder- 
ing with  the  recollection  of  his  ruffianly  w^ords  and 
manner  to  her.  It's  himself  w^ould  give  Jack  Dalton 
a  fine  thrashing  if  he  knew  about  it  —  or  at  least  he 
would  have  once  upon  a  time,  she  thought.  Chaun- 
cey  had  not  resented  it,  but  that  was  because  he 
couldn't  have  seen  or  heard  anything  of  it  at  all,  the 
poor  boy  was  that  miserable  I 

"Was  he?  Did  he  want  me?  "  said  Mike,  looking 
up  quickly.  Norah's  resolution  broke  down  before 
some  menace  in  his  eye  or  movement;  she  had  not  the 
courage  to  betray  Dalton. 

"  No,  'twas  to  see  Timmie,"  she  said,  pouring  the 
tea  with  a  shaking  hand. 

"To  see  Tim?"  her  husband  repeated.  "It'll  be 
my  turn  next,  likely.  What  for  did  he  w^ant  to  see 
Tim?" 

"Ah   then,    Mike,    I    don't   know;   how   should   I 

know?"    said    Norah    piteously.     "The    boy's    sick. 

He  won't  eat  nothing  —  that  is,  just  a  bit  here  and  a 

wee  sup  there.     They  done  something  to  him;  what 

(  is  it,  I  don't  know  — " 

"  Oh,  Tim's  well  enough.  Don't  be  a  fool ! "  said 
Michael,  pushing  his  chair  back  with  a  grating  noise. 
Norah  looked  after  him  despairingly  through  her 
tears.  It  had  come  to  this,  then!  With  a  husband 
and  a  son  in  the  house,  she  must  submit  to  be  sworn 
at  and  hustled  by  Jack  Dalton.  It  seemed  to  her  as 
if  his  shadow  lay  black  on  their  hearth. 


422  THE  KUDDER 

At  last,  within  something  less  than  the  nine  days 
popularly  assigned  to  such  matters,  the  hue  and  cry 
died  down.  Reporters  ceased  to  call  on  Poplar 
Street;  ice- wagons  were  seen  rolling  about  the  thor- 
oughfares as  formerly ;  no  more  queues  at  the  engine- 
house;  no  more  private  foragers  dashing  frantically 
to  and  fro.  It  was  supposed  that  some  compromise 
had  been  effected,  but  as  usual  nobody  knew  exactly 
what  had  happened.  Chauncey  went  to  French  Lick 
over  the  week-end,  and  by  the  time  he  got  back  the 
public  was  moving  serenely  on  its  way,  exhibiting 
that  amazing  facility  at  forgetting  certain  occur- 
rences which  is  equalled  only  by  the  amazing  tenacity 
Avith  which  it  remembers  certain  others.  The  young 
man's  spirits  revived;  he  began  to  think  about  Mrs. 
Loring,  to  wonder  w^hat  she  had  been  thinking  about 
him  all  this  time.  A  merciful  fate  spared  him  the 
knowledge  that  Eleanor  had  witnessed  that  Elm  wood 
scene ;  he  had  not  seen  her.  Now  Chauncey  felt  that 
no  power  on  earth  or  elsewhere,  not  even  Jack  Dal- 
ton,  could  keep  him  from  confiding  all  to  her;  he 
longed  ardently  to  explain  to  Eleanor;  his  version 
was  the  only  true  one ;  no  matter  what  she  had  heard, 
she  must  hear  him,  tnust  believe  him.  She  would  un- 
derstand; she  would  sympathise  because  she  —  he 
thrilled  again  to  remember  the  thrill  of  that  night. 

He  had  to  curb  his  impatience.  The  blinds  of  the 
Morehead  front  bedroom  were  down,  the  plants  in 
the  window-boxes  frizzled  to  a  crisp ;  and  his  mother, 
reciting  the  neighbourhood  chronicle,  casually  let 
drop  the  fact  that  she  had  not  seen  "  that  Mrs.  Lo- 
ring "  for  some  days ;  maybe  she  was  away  on  a  vaca- 
tion, or  making  a  visit  to  some  of  her  swell  friends. 

"  Ye  never  had  time  yet  to  tell  me  about  them  peo- 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  423 

pie  je  went  out  to  take  supper  with  that  night  — 
that  time  when  Mrs.  Loring  went,  too,  d'ye  mind?'' 
said  Xorah.  "  I  suppose  they  was  all  dressed  up  like 
queens.  A  man  wouldn't  know"  anything  about  W'hat 
they  had  on,  though.  Lutie  says  that  little  Miss 
Grace  ain't  nothing  to  look  at,  for  all  her  money  — '' 

Chauncey  let  her  run  on;  he  himself  was  thinking 
of  the  last  time  he  had  seen  Lutie,  when  she  had  been 
(with  good  reason!)  even  more  unwelcome  to  him 
than  usual.  He  would  have  liked  to  know  just  how 
much  Lutie  had  seen,  how  long  she  had  been  eaves- 
dropping. She  would  talk,  of  course  —  but  after  all, 
thought  Chauncey  securely,  what  if  she  did  talk? 
Everybody  knew  how  Lutie  Morehead  felt  about  him. 
She  might  gossip  her  head  off,  tell  lies  nineteen  to 
the  dozen,  or  merely  tell  the  truth,  and  people  would 
only  laugh  in  their  sleeves  and  egg  her  on. 

He  saw  Lutie  repeatedly,  but  always  at  a  distance, 
as  she  went  to  and  from  her  work,  and  had  it  been 
anybody  else,  he  would  have  thought  she  was  avoid- 
ing him ;  she  seemed  to  be  always  in  a  hurry,  and  al- 
ways looking  in  the  opposite  direction.  At  any  rate, 
he  would  not  have  gone  to  her  for  information  as  to 
Mrs.  Loring's  whereabouts ;  for  that  matter,  he  could 
not  make  any  inquiry  anywhere  except  in  the  most  cir- 
cumspect fashion.  The  only  person  to  whom  he 
might  have  applied  openly  was  Homer  Morehead  jun- 
ior, and  that  young  gentleman  had  disappeared  too. 
There  was  no  mystery  about  Homer,  however ;  Chaun- 
cey heard  that  he  had  gotten  a  job,  on  probation,  but 
there  was  little  doubt  that  he  w^ould  "  make  good." 
He  was  running  an  elevator  in  the  building  where 
Mr.  Kendrick's  office  was;  Mr.  Kendrick  had  recom- 
mended   him.     He    was    getting    fifteen    dollars    a 


424  THE  EUDDER 

month,  and  had  gone  to  live  down-town  at  the  Y.  M. 
C.  A.  Home  for  Boys,  or  some  such  j)lace.  Homer 
had  risen  several  degrees  in  the  public  esteem  since 
these  events;  one  heard  on  all  sides  that  he  w^as  a 
'good  boy,  a  steady  boy,  and  nobody's  fool  either; 
every  one  had  always  prophesied  a  successful  future 
for  him ! 

In  the  end  Chauncey  got  the  first  authoritative  re- 
port in  a  random  conversation  with  Miss  Schlochter- 
maier.  It  seemed  that  Mrs.  Loring  had  gone  out  to 
her  old  home  on  the  North  Hill  to  be  with  her  sister, 
who  was  crippled  or  blind  or  something;  Miss  Schloch- 
termaier  w^as  rather  indistinct  —  "  But  I  bet  Mrs. 
Loring  just  does  everything  for  her  —  I  bet  she's  just 
an  angel  to  her !  She's  the  loveliest  lady  I  ever  come 
in  contack  with ! "  was  the  stenographer's  enthusias- 
tic verdict.  Chauncey  listened  with  an  indifference 
not  w^holly  feigned ;  his  private  opinion  was  that  the 
sister  w^as  a  nuisance,  and  that  Mrs.  Loring  might  be 
an  angel,  but  emphatically  not  Miss  Schlochtermaier's 
kind  of  angel. 

It  was  the  very  next  morning  that  Eleanor  re- 
turned. Chauncey,  lurking  behind  his  curtains,  be- 
held hers  widely  drawm;  and,  with  the  familiar 
exquisite  shock,  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  within.  It 
was  only  ten  days,  yet  it  seemed  to  him  an  age,  since 
they  met,  since  they  parted !  He  said  to  himself  that 
he  iiad  forgotten  how  beautiful  she  was  —  he  had  for- 
gotten the  turn  of  her  w^aist,  the  carriage  of  her  head, 
the  proud  sureness  of  her  step  and  movements. 
While  he  gazed  she  vanished;  she  must  have  left  the 
room.  He  waited  for  her  to  reappear,  and  in  the  in- 
terval noticed  idly  that  there  was  a  taxi  at  the  curb, 
and  an  express-wagon  a  little  farther  along.     But 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  425 

between  them,  in  easy  conversation  with  the  chauf- 
feur, what  figure  was  that,  what  neat  and  carefully 
dressed  figure  of  short  stature  with  a  cigarette,  with 
eyeglasses,  with  a  close-trimmed  iron-grey  beard? 
It  was  her  uncle;  it  was  Mr.  Marshall  Cook  —  ahsit 
0111671 !  —  as  Chauncey  might  have  said  if  he  had  re- 
membered a  word  of  his  classics,  or  understood  a 
word  while  he  was  studying  them.  For  the  sight  of 
the  author  somehow  operated  most  depressingly  on 
Chauncey's  high-beating  heart.  What  was  he  doing 
here?  A  pair  of  expressmen  whom  he  had  not  seen 
enter  the  house  emerged  cumbrously  from  it,  with  a 
trunk  between  them  —  her  trunk !  They  came  down 
the  steps  and  loaded  it  on  their  wagon ;  and  drove  off 
unconcernedly,  just  as  if  there  were  no  such  thing 
as  tragedv  in  the  world. 

She  was  going  away;  she  would  not  be  here  on 
Poplar  Street  any  more;  that  much  was  plain,  but 
where  would  she  be?  With  the  invalid  sister,  with 
Mr.  Cook,  Avith  —  Good  Heavens!  —  her  husband? 
Chauncey  felt  that  he  could  not  endure  the  uncer- 
tainty ;  if  he  let  this  moment  go  by,  in  what  difficult 
and  devious  w^ays,  with  what  harrowing  delays  must 
his  pursuit  be  continued!  Prudent  or  not,  he  must 
find  out  now,  at  once,  even  if  the  knowledge  should 
be  torment.  He  ran  downstairs,  and  snatched  a  hat 
from  the  rack,  and  went  out,  starting  briskly  down 
street,  with  a  poor  pretence  of  not  noticing  what  was 
going  on  across  the  way,  which  he  converted  directly 
into  another  poor  pretence  of  surprise  and  awakening 
interest.  He  looked,  slackened  his  pace,  looked 
again,  halted.  Eleanor  was  standing  on  the  thresh- 
old. 

She  saw  him  and  nodded.     Chauncey  crossed  over, 


426  THE  EUDDER 

striving  not  to  appear  too  eager.  Mrs.  Loring  was 
not  at  all  nervous;  there  seemed  to  the  excited  and 
self-conscious  young  man  something  almost  formid- 
able in  the  composure  with  which  she  stood  and 
waited  for  him,  buttoning  her  glove.  Then  he  remem- 
bered that  women  are  notoriously  better  actors  than 
men.  He  went  up  to  her,  beginning  to  put  out  his 
hand  and  withdrawing  it  awkwardly  when  she  made 
no  corresponding  gesture;  her  hands,  indeed,  seemed 
to  be  too  busy  with  the  gloves  or  what-not.  She 
smiled  on  him,  however;  Amzi  Two  could  probably 
have  told  him  something  about  that  smile,  but  Chaun- 
eey  had  never  seen  it  before;  it  arrested  him  like  a 
dash  of  cold  water  in  the  face. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Devitt ! "  said  Eleanor,  smiling,  arching 
her  fine  eyebrows  in  amiable  recognition.  Cook 
started  and  turned  around,  puckering  his  forehead  to 
focus  his  near-sighted  gaze,  a  little  dazzled  by  the 
sunlight. 

"  It's  Mr.  Devitt,  Uncle  Marshall,"  intoned  Eleanor 
correctly  in  her  pleasant,  well-bred  voice.  "  You  re- 
member him,  of  course."  She  paused.  "  Mr.  Devitt, 
the  labour-leader." 

There  were  no  words  to  characterise  her  manner  — 
or,  at  any  rate,  Chauncey  could  think  of  none.  It 
was  the  quintessence  of  delicate  and  bland  offence, 
yet  one  inferred  that  she  would  not  take  the  trouble 
to  insult  him.  He  stood  before  her  at  first  incredu- 
lous, then  aghast,  then  suddenly  in  a  boiling  turmoil 
of  disappointment,  mortification,  sheer  rage.  He 
wanted  to  swear  at  her;  he  wanted  to  call  her  vile 
names ;  he  wanted  to  scream  out :  "  Why,  curse  you, 
I've  held  you  in  my  arms ;  I've  kissed  your  breast ;  I 
could  have  had  you  for  nothing  —  you  would  have 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  427 

let  me;  you  wanted  me  to  I  What  do  you  mean 
by  looking  at  me  and  talking  to  me  like  this,  as  if  — 
as  if — "  the  qualit}-  of  her  hatefulness  eluded  him 
again;  he  could  not  ])\\t  a  name  to  it;  he  could  only 
seethe  inwardly.  No  consideration  for  Eleanor  with- 
held him  from  some  such  outburst;  it  was  himself 
that  he  was  thinking  of ;  he  had  his  own  face  to  save. 

And  all  the  while  here  was  that  simple-minded  lit- 
tle fellow,  her  uncle,  spreading  civil  conventionalities 
over  the  situation  in  complete  unconsciousness  of  its 
uglier  aspects  —  so  Chauncey  thought.  He  braced 
himself  to  an  attitude  of  similar  sophistication.  Po- 
lite inquiries  passed.  Yes,  Mrs.  Loring  was  going 
away  for  a  while ;  she  and  her  sister  were  going  East 
to  spend  the  rest  of  the  summer  with  Mr.  Cook  in  a 
cottage  he  had  taken  down  on  the  Cape;  always  cool 
there,  you  know.  Always  so  hot  here.  Every  one 
needed  a  change  now  and  then.  Mr.  Devitt  himself 
had  been  away  for  a  few  days.  What  a  delightful 
evening  they  had  had  with  Mrs.  and  Miss  Grace ! 

Cook  handed  his  niece  into  the  cab. 


CHAPTER  XII 

IF  Cook  had  a  guess  at  what  had  passed  between 
his  niece  and  the  man  they  left  standing  on  the 
curb,  or  at  the  significance  of  the  last  scene,  he 
sagely  kept  it  to  himself.  For  that  matter  his  guess 
would  have  gone  no  farther  than  that  the  young  fel- 
low yonder  had  lost  his  head  over  Eleanor,  who  could 
not  help  being  attractive  to  men,  and  that  she  ap- 
13eared  to  have  found  it  necessary,  finally,  to  "  set  him 
down  hard  " —  such  was  the  vulgar  colloquial  Eng- 
lish Mr.  Cook  iDrivately  and  sometimes  publicly  em- 
ployed. The  episode  did  not  greatly  interest  him; 
during  this  visit,  which  had  reached  the  unprece- 
dented length  of  ten  days,  he  had  been  busy  and  trou- 
bled. In  spite  of  a  way  of  life  which  is  supposed  to 
engender  selfishness,  particularly  in  bachelors,  Mar- 
shall had  a  sense  of  duty,  which  of  late  had  been  dis- 
turbingly active.  It  had  not  ceased  to  press  upon 
him  the  conviction  that  something  ought  to  be  done 
for  his  niece,  Fanny. 

To  tell  the  truth,  after  twentv-four  hours  of  Mrs. 
Maranda  in  her  new  role  of  guardian  angel  to  the 
blind  or  all-but-blind  girl,  there  were  moments  when 
the  mild  little  man  of  letters  could  have  gone  berserk 
with  anger  and  pity.  It  went  to  his  heart  to  see  the 
poor  thing  feeling  her  way  about  the  house,  or  sitting 
drearily  idle,  she  whom  he  remembered  for  years  back 
so  willingly  and  tirelessly  industrious.  In  her  own 
w^ay  Fanny  had  once  been  almost  as  pretty  and  al- 

428 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  429 

ways  as  dainty  as  Eleanor;  he  thonght  there  was  a 
horrible  small  pathos  in  the  spectacle  of  her  now  with 
her  hair  untidily  or  unbecomingly  dressed,  her  blouse 
buttoned  awry;  she  could  not  see  herself;  her  hands 
had  lost  their  deftness.  She  was  barely  thirty -one; 
nobody  ever  dies  of  being  unhappy,  all  romance  to  the 
contrary  notwithstanding.  Cook  thought  bitterly,  so 
Fannie  had  before  her  a  lifetime  of  this  same  humble 
and  uncomplaining  wretchedness.  Her  aifliction  was 
enough  in  itself;  but,  to  top  that,  she  must  support 
the  childishly  unconscious  brutalities  of  a  thoroughly 
good  woman.  Twenty  times  a  day  Cook,  flinching 
himself,  saw  Fanny  flinch  beneath  her  aun't  barbar- 
ous sympathy,  only  paralleled  by  her  barbarous  fun. 
He  actually  shut  himself  in  his  room,  and  shook  an 
accusing  fist  at  space.  "How  can  such  things  be?" 
he  cried  out.  "  Satan  himself  couldn't  have  invented 
anything  more  monstrous.  If  Juliet  were  only  had, 
if  she  did  what  she  does  knowingly  out  of  malice  or 
meanness,  why,  one  could  get  even  with  her  —  one 
could  pay  her  back  cruelty  for  cruelty  —  one  might 
have  at  least  that  much  savage  satisfaction.  If  she 
were  only  had  —  but,  good  Lord,  she's  nothing  but  a 
fool !  Nobody  can  get  even  with  a  fool !  Nobody  can 
do  anything  to  a  fool !  " 

It  was  there  and  then  that  Marshall  made  up  his 
mind  about  the  something  which  must  be  done  for 
Fannie.  He  said  afterwards  that  he  would  recom- 
mend the  same  experiment  to  any  novelist  for  the 
profitable  study  of  character  afforded  by  the  ways 
in  which  the  three  women  received  his  plan.  Fannie 
was  a  mixture  of  anxious  distress  at  having  given  him 
trouble,  and  of  a  timid  hope  and  delight  touching  to 
witness.     Eleanor's    gratitude    blazed;    nothing   pa- 


430  THE  KUDDER 

thetic  about  her!  She  seized  upon  his  project,  ex- 
panding and  embellishing  it  with  subordinate  proj- 
ects of  her  own,  which  differed  from  those  of  most 
enthusiasts  by  being  in  the  main  practicable.  "  Do 
it?  Of  course  we  can  do  it!"  she  iDroclaimed  su- 
j)erbly.  "  We'll  i^aj  you  back  whatever  you  advance 
to  start  us  housekeeping,  Uncle  Marshall.  Fannie 
and  I  couldn't  be  satisfied  otherwise.  We  couldn't 
take  that  much  from  you  just  as  a  gift."  She  over- 
rode his  objections  royally.  "  I  know  where  I  can  get 
just  the  apartment  we  need  —  four  or  five  rooms  — 
that  will  be  big  enough  for  us,  and  have  a  place  for 
you,  too,  when  you  come  to  make  us  a  visit.  We'll 
have  everything  so  simple  that  Fannie  will  learn  how 
to  get  around  and  manage  it  in  no  time  while  I'm  out 
or  at  the  Charities.  Oh,  Fan,  worv't  it  be  fun?  Our 
own  home,  only  think ! "  Eleanor  threw  her  arms 
around  the  other's  neck  and  kissed  her,  and  embraced 
Cook  too,  bursting  into  laughter  a  little  wildly  with 
tears  in  her  eyes  at  the  little  man's  embarrassment. 
"  Poor  Aunt  Juliet !  I'm  sure  she  doesn't  think  of  it 
as  a  plan.  It's  more  like  a  —  a  pogrom  to  her !  "  she 
wound  up,  laughing  again. 

Indeed,  poor  Mrs.  Maranda  was  surprised,  ag- 
grieved, finally  confounded.  She  frankly  did  not 
know  what  to  make  of  Marshall,  what  to  make  of  the 
girls !  Had  they  not  lived  for  years  under  her  care, 
and  how  could  they  possibly  get  along  without  her? 
Had  she  not  always  made  a  sweet,  lovely  home  for 
them  even  in  the  face  of  Eleanor's  lack  of  apprecia- 
tion, even  after  poor  dear  Fannie  became  a  helpless 
burden?  She  could  not  conceive  why  they  should 
want  to  go  off  and  set  up  in  a  place  by  themselves,  all 
to  themselves,  or  how  their  uncle  ever  came  to  sug- 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  431 

gest  siicli  a  tiling.  Think  of  how  it  wonld  look  to 
outsiders !  Think  of  her  ill-health  !  Think  of  the  ex- 
pense to  her  of  maintaining  a  separate  establishment ! 
Mrs.  Juliet  wept,  adjured,  complained,  had  hysterics, 
went  to  bed  and  sent  for  the  doctor  —  all  to  no  pur- 
pose. She  saw  with  stupefaction  the  preparations  ' 
going  forward  unhindered;  she  might  cry  her  eyes 
out,  she  might  stay  in  bed  till  doomsday,  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life  nobody  would  heed  her.  It  was  a 
rout,  a  debacle.  Before  this  Marshall  had  sometimes 
friofhtened  her  with  his  immovable  suavity,  his 
speeches  that  sounded  so  harmless,  yet  so  often  left 
Iier  with  a  sense  of  defeat  and  insecurity;  now  she 
trembled  before  him,  before  the  invincible  and  invul- 
nerable male  to  whose  decision  all  femininity  must 
bow  as  to  Juggernaut  —  so  Mrs.  Maranda  had  been 
trained  to  believe  in  her  mid-Victorian  youth.  Cook 
knew  the  attitude  of  mind ;  he  allowed  her  to  remain 
in  it ! 

"  It  appears  that  I  am  a  brute!  "  he  said  to  himself 
with  a  grin.  ^'  I  insist  that  Fannie  and  Eleanor  shall 
have  this  little  outing  down  on  the  Cape  with  me  this 
summer,  and  then  that  they  shall  have  a  home  of 
their  own,  irrespective  of  what  Juliet  wants  or  has 
aranged.  I  am  the  Man  of  the  family,  and  when  I 
put  my  awful  foot  down,  who  dares  dispute  me? 
Even  the  time-honoured  device  of  going  into  ladylike 
tantrums  has  no  effect.  I  am  a  ramping,  roaring, 
masculine  monster.  Bien!  That  settles  it.  Xow 
we  all  know  where  we  stand ! '' 

So  the  packing-up  and  moving,  the  bargaining  and 
ordering,  all  the  countless  odds  and  ends  were  pres- 
ently attended  to,  mainly  by  Eleanor  herself.  The 
Poplar  Street   expedition  was  put  off  to  the  last, 


432  THE  EUDDEE 

whether  intentionally  or  not  she  could  scarcely  have 
told.  Upon  her  return  in  the  fall,  her  work  would 
be  in  another  quarter  of  the  city.  She  had  said  to 
Miss  Penry  that  she  would  like  something  new. 

"  There  isn't  an^^thing  new^  Mrs.  Loring.  You 
ought  to  know  that  by  this  time,  after  a  year  of  this 
charity  work,"  said  Miss  Penry  with  good-humoured 
impatience.  "  It'll  be  the  same  kind  of  dirt  and  fool- 
ishness and  ignorance  and  worse;  same  kind  of  peo- 
ple, good  and  bad  and  betwixt-and-between.  No  use 
to  expect  anything  else.'' 

Eleanor  regarded  her  thoughtfully.  "  I  don't  ex- 
pect anything  else,"  she  said.  "  I've  gotten  all  over 
my  notions  about  the  '  deserving  poor.'  I've  found 
out  there  aren't  any  ^  deserving  poor.'  But  I've  found 
out  another  thing  that's  a  great  deal  more  impor- 
tant, and  that  is  that  it  doesn't  make  any  difference 
whether  they  are  deserving  or  not;  they've  got  to  be 
taken  care  of  whatever  they  are.  Good  or  bad, 
what's  the  odds?  We  have  them  on  our  hands,  and 
we  must  look  out  for  them.  Only  I  want  a  new  set 
to  look  out  for." 

She  smiled,  though  Miss  Penry  was  sober. 

^^All  right.  A  person  does  get  tired  of  being  in 
one  place  all  the  time,"  said  the  latter.  "  And  when 
that  happens  I  think  you  sometimes  lose  your  influ- 
ence with  the  people.  They  get  tired  of  you.  All 
right,  Mrs.  Loring,  I'll  get  'em  to  shift  you.  You 
might  take  the  East  End  this  time.  That's  way  off 
at  the  other  side  of  the  city,  and  you'll  find  a  whole 
new  outfit  of  drunks  and  defective  children,  and  good- 
for-nothing  wives  and  poor  diseased  things  —  same  as 
usual,  but  with  different  names  and  faces."  She 
stopped,  then  added  candidly :     "  Do  you  know  I  was 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  433 

sure  youxl  get  discouraged  and  quit  I     But  I  don't  be- 
lieve you  will,  after  all.     You've  got  tlie  right  idea.'^ 

The  morning  of  their  departure  came  around  at 
last,  and  Poplar  Street  could  no  longer  be  avoided. 
When  Cook  volunteered  to  go  with  her,  Eleanor 
found  herself  rather  guiltily  glad  of  his  support; 
nothing  could  happen  with  her  uncle  standing  by  — 
if  she  should  meet  some  one,  for  instance  — 

But  they  met  nobody  at  first ;  nobody  was  in  sight 
when  Eleanor  went  up  the  familiar  steps.  Lutie 
opened  the  door,  starting  back  and  glowering  at  the 
visitor. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Loring!  Quite  a  stranger,  ain't  you?  '' 
she  said  with  an  effort,  achieving  a  loud  neigh  of 
laughter.     "  I  hear  you're  going  to  leave  us." 

"  I'm  going  to  take  a  vacation  first,  and  then  — " 

"  I'm  on  mine  now.  I  guess  you  didn't  expect  to 
find  me  around  home  —  not  that  you'd  be  coming 
to  see  me  anyhow,"  said  Lutie  with  biting  emphasis. 
"Your  things  is  all  upstairs  just  the  way  you  left 
'em.     Nobody's  touched  'em,  nor  took  any,  I  guess." 

Eleanor  went  up,  dogged  by  the  remembrance  of 
the  other's  wretched  eyes.  For  Lutie's  vindictive 
speech  somehow  rang  hollow;  she  was  not  a  jealous 
termagant;  she  was  only  hopeless,  only  unhappy. 
The  perception  smote  Eleanor  with  a  sense  of  guilt 
which  she  would  willingly  have  exchanged  for  the 
worst  of  physical  pain.  It  was  in  vain  that  she  ar- 
gued with  herself  that  it  was  not  her  fault  that  the 
young  man  had  been  attracted  to  her;  that  she  had 
consciously  done  nothing  to  win  him  away  from  Lu- 
tie; that,  indeed,  he  never  had  been  Lutie's.  It  was 
in  vain  that  she  told  herself  what  a  poor  creature  he 
w^as ;  she  knew  that  that  was  nothing  to  Lutie ;  Lutie 


434  THE  RUDDER 

could  not  be  made  to  see  him  as  lie  was,  and  if  she 
could,  it  would  not  matter  to  her.  She  loved  him. 
Eleanor  had  stolen  him  and  with  the  best  will  in  the 
world  could  not  give  him  back.  Both  women  knew 
that,  the  one  with  what  longing  and  despair,  the  other 
in  what  self-contemning  humiliation. 

Eleanor  walked  about,  gathering  up  clothing  and 
trifles  with  unheeding  hands.  There  was  not  much 
to  do.  She  thrust  everything  into  her  trunk  and 
locked  it  mechanically,  and  went  to  call  the  express- 
man. Lutie  came  up  the  stairs  and  met  her  on  the 
landing. 

"  Ready?  '^  she  asked.  And  then,  drawing  her  lips 
into  a  smile :  "  Say,  your  gentleman  friend's  down 
there.  I  guess  he  seen  something  was  doing  over 
here,  and  came  across  to  find  out.'' 

Eleanor  made  no  pretence  of  not  understanding. 
"  I  don't  want  to  see  him,"  she  said,  recoiling  invol- 
untarily. 

"  Shouldn't  think  you  would  with  so  many  people 
round,"  said  Lutie  meaningly. 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  him,"  Eleanor  repeated.  "  I 
am  going  away  —  I  want  to  say  good-bye  to  you, 
Lutie  — " 

"Why,  sure,  of  course!  Of  course  you  only  come 
because  you  were  just  crazy  about  me,  and  just  plain 
had  to  say  good-bye ! "  the  gird  retorted.  Her  eyes 
evading  Eleanor's  chanced  to  fall  on  the  reflection 
of  their  two  figures  in  the  mirror.  There  stood  Elea- 
nor, lithe,  erect  and  cool,  A^ith  her  high  head,  her  fine 
hands,  her  toilette  that  seemed  to  the  other  so  inimi- 
tably "  stylish  " ;  and  here  Lutie,  thick-set,  corsetless, 
heavily  pretty  in  a  soiled  dressing-sacque  and  a  skirt 
that  dragged  down  unevenly  at  the  back.     It  was  a 


BREAD  AND  CIECUSES  435 

cruel  comparison.  All  at  once  Lntie's  eyes  filled  up, 
overflowed;  she  tried  to  speak,  but  broke  into  hard 
sobs  instead,  leaning  against  the  door-post  with  her 
arm  across  her  face,  her  whole  body  shaking.  "  Oh, 
Mrs.  Loring  —  oh,  I  don't  see  how  you  could — I 
don't  see  how  you  could  — !  "  she  moaned. 

If  Eleanor  had  done  any  w^rong,  she  expiated  it  all 
in  that  moment  of  anguished  pity  and  self-abasement. 
"Lutie,  don't,  don't!''  she  whispered,  her  own  voice 
breaking.     ''  I  didn't  mean  to  —  I  know  I  ought  not 

to—" 

"'Tain't  that!  I  ain't  blaming  you!"  the  other 
gasped  incoherently  between  paroxysms.  "  You 
can't  help  being  pretty  —  and  lovely  clothes  —  and 
everything  —  you  can't  help  it.  It  ain't  your  fault 
that  way.  Only  it  ain't  fair!  You  got  it  all  already. 
You  can't  help  it,  I  know,  but  — "  she  began  again  in- 
consistently ;  ''  I  didn't  think  you  icould,  Mrs.  Loring 
—  I  don't  see  how  you  could  — " 

Eleanor  stood  before  her  an  instant  helpless,  tor- 
tured ;  she  had  an  impulse  to  fly,  to  escape  any  more 
of  it,  but  acted  on  another  and  better  one.  She  went 
up  to  the  poor  thing,  and  put  her  arms  about  her,  and 
Lutie,  surrendering,  wept  on  the  enemy's  shoulder  and 
eased  her  heart,  and  Eleanor  comforted  her.  "Lu- 
tie," she  said  in  a  voice  strong  and  steady  now  as  the 
support  of  her  kind  arms ;  "  Lutie,  it's  all  over  —  it's 
over  for  good  and  all.  After  this  one  time  I  will 
never  see  him  again.  I  won't  be  so  very  far  away,  of 
course,  but  I  promise  you  I  will  make  it  so  that  he 
and  I  shall  never  meet  again.  Then  presently  he  will 
forget  me  —  forget  how  he  felt  about  me  —  forget 
everything's  that  happened  — " 

"Yes.     Seems    like    that's    the   way    men    are  — 


436  THE  RUDDER 

they're  always  forgetting/'  sighed  Lutie.  They  kissed 
each  other  good-bye. 

So  Eleanor  descended,  and  presently  gave  Mr.  De- 
vitt  his  conge,  after  the  manner  described.  She 
would  have  done  so  in  any  event;  she  believed  that 
she  despised  him  for  a  cheap,  meretricious  fool;  the 
trouble  really  was  that  she  had  been  a  fool  herself  in 
company  Tvith  him  —  that  was  the  unforgivable  and 
unforgettable  thing !  But  the  spectacle  of  Lutie  un- 
doubtedly edged  her  more  keenly.  She  went  from  the 
scene  with  the  sensation  of  having  done  a  neat  job 
superlatively  well.  After  a  while  of  this  placid  look- 
ing upon  the  work  and  seeing  that  it  was  good,  she 
returned  comfortably  to  the  affairs  of  the  moment. 
"  How  much  time  have  we?  I  haven't  anything  more 
to  do,  but  women  always  worry  about  making  a  train, 
you  know." 

Her  uncle  looked  at  his  watch.  ''  Oh,  easily 
enough,  barring  accidents.  Even  if  this  little  tin 
kettle  should  break  down,  we  could  take  the  cars  — " 

At  that  precise  instant  the  little  tin  kettle,  turning 
a  corner,  jerked  to  a  standstill  with  such  undue  vio- 
lence as  to  throw  them  backwards  and  forwards  in 
their  seats.  "  Oh,  my  prophetic  soul  I  "  Cook  jolted 
out.     "What's  up?" 

They  suddenly  found  themselves  in  the  skirts  of  a 
gathering  crowd;  a  policeman  loomed  in  the  middle 
of  it,  other  j^olicemen  Avere  arriving,  there  were  heads 
at  all  the  windows,  vehicles  stalled  here  and  there, 
rising  hubbub. 

"  Ambulance  coming,  sir,"  said  the  driver.  "  I 
can't  get  through  here.     Go  round  the  square?  " 

"  Yes  —  if  you  can  turn  — " 

Even  that  slight  manoeuvre  had  to  be  executed 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  437 

slowly  and  with  caution.  During  the  backing  and 
tilling,  Cook  spoke  out  of  the  window  to  the  nearest 
pair  of  shirtsleeves.     "  Whaf  s  the  matter?" 

^^  Accident  I  "  said  the  other  concisely.  He  nodded 
towards  a  towering  facade  on  the  corner.  "  Up  there 
in  the  Kremlin  Building." 

"Ah?    What  was  it?" 

"Dont  know.  Man  hurt  —  or  killed  maybe. 
They're  taking  him  out  now."  He  stood  on  tiptoe, 
craning,  then  settled  back  disappointed.  "  You  can't 
get  near  enough  to  see  anything." 

Cook  and  his  niece  went  on  down  to  their  train 
which  left  at  noon ;  and  it  was  not  until  the  next  day, 
loitering  through  a  late  breakfast,  that  they  found 
in  the  Boston  morning-papers  what  it  was  that  they 
had  been  within  a  few  feet  of  witnessing.  The  Krem- 
lin Building  I  They  both  remembered  the  spot,  the 
delay,  the  excitement;  and  Cook,  reading  down  the 
column,  ejaculated  in  horrified  and  disbelieving  sur- 
prise : 

"Good  heavens  I  Why,  it's  not  possible!  Devitt! 
It's  not  that  Devitt  —  not  the  young  man  —  it's  his 
father.  It  says  here  the  '  Shamrock  Construction 
Company,'  so  it  must  mean  the  older  one.  Yes,  Mi- 
chael Devitt!  I  remember  him  well!  Why,  you 
can't  believe  it !  He  must  have  gone  suddenly  insane. 
One  can't  help  thinking  that  people  who  do  things 
like  that  are  insane  —  temporarily,  anyhow.  Poor 
old  Mike !  Well,  ^  Home  he's  gone  and  ta'en  his 
wages  I '  Xobody  ever  will  know  what  it  was  all 
about  now.     Xobodv  can  ever  sav  with  certainty." 

In  fact,  there  had  been  only  one  eye-witness,  and 
people  pointed  out  that  poor  Hilda  Schlochtermaier 
was  next  door  to  crazv  herself  from  the  shock,  so  that 


438  THE  KUDDEE 

her  testimony  was  not  absolutely  reliable,  even  when 
the  coroner  managed  to  hold  her  down  to  plain  state- 
ments. It  took  a  deal  of  time  and  trouble,  for  she 
w^ould  go  wandering  off  into  irrelevancies,  in  particu- 
lar about  Jack  Dalton,  whom  she  accused  of  responsi- 
bility for  what  had  happened  and  much  else  besides. 
She  never  had  any  use  for  him  —  he  wasn't  any  good 
and  everybody  knew  it  —  oh,  yes,  he  and  Mr.  Devitt 
had  always  been  friends  —  that  is,  she  supposed  they 
began  by  being  friends  —  but  it  looked  to  her  like  Mr. 
Devitt  was  just  afraid  of  Dal  ton  now,  afraid  of  hav- 
ing any  fuss  with  him.  Dalton  had  got  thousands  of 
dollars  out  of  him ;  she  knew  that  —  well,  maybe  not 
thousands,  but  hundreds  anyway.  It  w^as  just  plain 
robbery,  same  as  if  he'd  cracked  a  safe  —  Dalton 
ought  to  have  been  in  the  Pen  long  ago  —  and  so  on 
and  so  on.  They  had  to  bring  her  back  to  the  point 
again  and  again. 

Sifted  out,  what  she  said  was  that  she  had  been  in 
Mr.  Devitt's  employ  as  stenographer  and  office-girl 
for  nearly  four  years.  No,  she  had  never  noticed 
anything  queer  about  him ;  often  he  would  be  kind  of 
worried  and  down  in  the  mouth,  but  he  never  acted 
queer ;  she  was  sure  there  wasn't  anything  the  matter 
with  him.  He  was  the  nicest  old  man  —  not  what 
you'd  call  refined,  but  real  nice  feelings  about  every- 
thing. She  never  worked  for  anybody  she  liked  bet- 
ter. 

She  said  that  she  w^ent  to  the  office  that  morning  as 
usual;  it  was  Eoom  912,  the  Kremlin  Building. 
They  only  had  one  room,  with  just  her  desk  and  his. 
Old  Mike  didn't  need  much  of  an  office  for  his  busi- 
ness, you  know.  He  wasn't  there  ever,  except  morn- 
ings for  a  couple  of  hours;  they  would  go  over  the 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  439 

mail  together,  and  he  would  kind  of  tell  her  what  to 
answer.  He  wasn't  any  hand  to  dictate  letters  or 
things  like  that;  as  soon  as  she  got  to  knowing  the 
business  pretty  well,  he  left  a  good  deal  of  that  part 
of  it  to  her,  while  he'd  be  out  on  the  work.  She  kept 
the  books,  and  the  men's  time,  and  did  the  banking  — 
regular  oflfice  work.  They  kept  the  cash  in  Mr.  De- 
vitt's  drawer,  but  both  of  them  had  keys  to  it,  and 
often  she'd  pay  off  the  hands  Saturday  night  —  when- 
ever Mr.  Devitt  asked  her  to.  She  never  had  thought 
anything  of  his  having  that  gun  —  that  revolver  — 
in  the  drawer  with  the  money.  Lots  of  men  were 
careful  to  have  a  gun  somewheres  around  handy,  if 
they  had  a  lot  of  money  to  take  care  of.  He  had  said 
to  her  that  it  was  in  case  of  trouble,  because  the  men 
were  a  rough  lot,  and  she  might  holler  her  head  off, 
when  one  squint  at  that  gun  right  under  her  hand 
would  fix  'em.  No,  Mr.  Devitt  had  not  showed  her 
how  to  load  it;  she  was  scared  to  touch  it;  she  be- 
lieved there  were  cartridges  or  shells  or  whatever 
they  use  in  one  of  the  drawers  of  the  desk,  but  she 
couldn't  say.  No,  she  didn't  know  whether  he  had 
loaded  it  that  morning,  or  whether  it  was  loaded  al- 
ready. Yes,  that  was  the  revolver  —  and  oh,  please, 
mister,  please  — ! 

She  became  very  hysterical  and  incoherent  here, 
and  it  was  some  time  before  they  could  quiet  her 
enough  to  proceed  with  the  inquest.  At  last  she 
went  on  to  say  that  she  had  opened  up  the  place  and 
done  some  work  already  when  Mr.  Devitt  came  in ;  he 
seemed  the  same  as  usual ;  he  spoke  to  her  about  a  bid 
he  had  put  in  for  the  cement  work  on  the  new  via- 
duct. It  was  about  half  past  eleven  when  Dalton 
came.     She  did  not  know  whether  Devitt  was  expect- 


440  THE  RUDDER 

ing  him  or  not.  It  was  nothing  out  of  the  way  for 
him  to  drop  in  at  any  time.  When  she  saw  him  she 
just  thought:  "Well,  I  bet  he's  mad  about  the  way 
his  old  ice-strike  fizzled  out ;  maybe  he  didn't  get  his 
rake-off.  I  bet  he's  going  to  start  something  with 
Mike's  men  just  to  get  even,  and  show  everybody  he's 
in  the  game  still.  That  would  be  just  like  him.  He 
ain't  no  better  than  one  of  these  yeggs,  and  he'd  ought 
to  be  doing  time  this  minute — "  She  had  to  be 
brought  back  to  the  main  narrative  again. 

After  some  kind  of  abrupt  greeting,  Dalton  went 
over  to  Devitt,  w^ho  w^as  sitting  at  his  desk,  and  said 
something  which  the  stenographer  did  not  catch. 
She  was  not  listening,  being  busy,  and,  as  she  re- 
peated, accustomed  to  Dalton's  visits  which,  accord- 
ing to  her,  only  had  one  object.  They  talked  for  a 
while;  once  Dalton  laughed.  After  a  while  Mr.  De- 
vitt got  up,  and  she  heard  the  keys  jingle  when  he 
took  them  out  of  his  pocket  and  started  to  unlock  the 
cash-drawer.  That  made  her  look  around;  she  was 
not  frightened,  only  startled  —  as  she  tried  to  ex- 
plain —  because  old  Mike  had  never  taken  money  out 
of  their  cash  and  given  it  to  Dalton  right  in  front  of 
lier;  he  always  wrote  a  cheque. 

She  saw  him  standing  up  with  his  hand  in  the 
drawer ;  Jack  Dalton  was  still  sitting  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  desk.  Devitt  said :  "  It's  no  use.  Jack. 
I  can't  do  it.  That's  my  answer.  Will  you  go 
now?" 

Dalton  grinned  and  shook  his  head  and  said: 
"Oh,  forget  it!"  or  "Oh,  can  that  talk!"  or  some- 
thing of  that  kind. 

The  other  man  said  again:  "It's  no  use,  I  tell 
you.     I  haven't  got  it.     I  can't  do  it.     It's  the  truth 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  441 

I-m  telling  you."     Then  he  stopped  for  a  second,  and 
then  said :     ^'  Well,  if  yon  tcill  have  it,  take  it  I  " 

Hilda  screamed  and  ran  towards  them ;  but  she  was 
too  late. 

The  report  rang  deafeningh^  in  the  room;  but, 
strangely  enough,  it  was  not  that,  but  the  woman's 
screams  that  brought  the  people.  An  eleyator-boy, 
the  iDOStman,  and  one  of  the  scrub-women  employed  in 
the  building  were  among  the  first,  and  all  said  that 
they  had  heard  a  noise  which  they  supposed  to  be  the 
back-fire  of  an  automobile  somewhere,  and  that  they 
would  haye  paid  no  attention,  if  it  had  not  been  for 
the  screaming.  As  it  was,  people  outside  actually 
knew  what  had  happened  before  those  within  and 
much  nearer;  for  some  of  the  sewing-machine  girls 
in  the  Weareyer  Pants  Company's  workshop  on  the 
parallel  floor  of  the  power-building  across  the  alley, 
eating  their  luncheon  by  the  Avindows,  saw  into  a  part 
of  the  room,  and  it  was  they  who  gaye  the  initial 
alarm,  rushing  back  through  their  own  territory ;  and 
somebody  turned  in  the  police-call.  In  fiye  minutes 
the  place  boiled  with  people,  the  doctor  had  been  sent 
for,  the  newspaper-men  were  gathering.  Deyitt  still 
stood  with  the  reyolyer  in  his  hand,  and  Miss  Schloch- 
termaier,  still  screaming,  was  trying  to  wrest  it  from 
him.  Dalton  lay  where  he  had  fallen,  his  feet  tan- 
gled in  the  chair  that  had  gone  oyer  with  him;  the 
body  twitched  once  or  twice,  but  the  shot  had  been 
point-blank  through  the  heart,  and  he  must  haye  died 
instantly.  The  scrub-woman  put  her  apron  over  his 
face. 

The    police-captain,    who    knew   both    men,    said: 
"  My  God,  Mr.  Devitt,  what  you  done?  " 

"  He  didn't  do  nothing  —  he  didn't   do  nothing ! 


442  THE  RUDDER 

It  was  him  —  it  was  Jack  Dalton ! "  shrieked  Miss 
Schlochtermaier.     "  Get  that  gun  away  from  him  I  ■ ' 

Devitt  held  on  to  the  weapon  in  spite  of  her  fran- 
tic efforts.  He  said :  "  Is  he  dead?  I  guess  I  killed 
him,  then.'' 

"  He  come  in  here  and  attackted  you  —  you  know 
he  did  —  you  know  he  did !  "  Hilda  cried  out.  "  I  was 
here  —  I  saw  it !  "  she  screamed  at  the  others.  "  It's 
Dalton's  gun!  He'd  'a'  killed  Mr.  Devitt,  only  he 
got  it  off  of  him !     Dalton  done  it,  I  tell  you !  " 

"  I  guess  I've  killed  him,"  Mike  repeated. 

"He  had  to  —  he  had  to!  Dalton  got  mad  at 
somej)in'  Mr.  Devitt  says,  and  went  for  him  with  — 
w^ith  that  there  chair,  and  he'd  'a'  busted  his  head 
open  —  and  Dalton  a  great,  big,  strong  young  feller 

—  and  him  an  old  man — " 

"  No,  no.  Jack  was  near  my  own  age,"  said  Mi- 
chael Devitt.  He  looked  at  the  officer  and  said: 
"  He  had  me  with  my  back  to  the  wall." 

"  Don't  talk  —  you  hadn't  oughta  talk  — !  "  said 
the  police-captain  hastily.  "  I  got  to  take  you  in 
charge,  you  know,  and  afterwards  you  can  tell  'em 
how  it  happened — " 

"  That's  right,  don't  you  pay  no  'tention  to  him, 
off'cer!  He  ain't  right  in  his  head  —  he  ain't  re- 
spons'ble.     I  guess  I  oughta  know.     I  was  right  here 

—  I  saw  it!  He  didn't  do  it  —  he  had  to  do  it,  he 
couldn't  help  himself  — ! "  Miss  Schlochtermaier 
kept  on  screaming  wildly  fluent,  until  the  other  office- 
girls  got  around  her  and  led  her  away,  while  the  po- 
licemen were  getting  the  place  cleared. 

Some  one  kindheartedly  undertook  to  break  the 
news  to  Devitt's  wife  and  son;  they  took  him  down 
to    the    patrol-wagon.     He    went   very    quietly,    not 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  443 

seeming  to  see  or  at  least  to  mind  the  crowd,  and  not 
noticing  any  individuals  in  it,  not  even  when  Kaba- 
koff  of  the  Wearever  Pants  came  rushing  up,  trying 
to  break  through  the  cordon  of  police. 

"  Mr.  Devitt,  he  iss  my  friendt.  We  are  friends, 
yass !  I  know  him  from  'way  back.  You  let  him  go 
home,  Mister  Cop,  yass?  I  gif  you  bell  for  him  — 
look  —  see  — !  "  yelled  Kabakoff  excitedly,  tears  of 
honest  emotion  coursing  down  his  Oriental  features, 
the  while  he  brandished  a  handful  of  soiled  paper  cur- 
rency under  the  officer's  nose.  "  I  sfo  his  bell  —  Mike 
he  iss  goot  for  it  —  he  iss  goot  man  — '' 

"  Sa-ay,  you  can't  get  bail  for  murder,"  expostu- 
lated the  captain,  backing  away  from  this  onslaught. 
*'  That  ain't  the  way  to  do  it,  anyhow.  Don't  you 
know  nothing?     Sa-ay,  keep  quiet,  now  I" 

The  crowd  dispersed ;  only  the  reporters  trailed  the 
patrol-wagon.  One  of  them,  a  green  hand,  would 
haye  followed  Miss  Schlochtermaier,  thinking  he 
scented  a  "  story  " ;  but  a  better  seasoned  companion 
dissuaded  him.  "  She'll  keep,''  said  he.  '^  They'll 
screw  all  she  knows  out  of  her.  She's  just  crazy  now, 
trying  to  lie  him  out  of  it,  like  women  do.  Let's  hop 
this  car.  It'll  get  us  up  to  the  jail  'most  as  soon  as 
they  get  there." 

They  hopped  it;  and,  standing  on  the  rear  plat- 
form, re-discussed  the  event.  "  I  guess  Dalton  got 
his^  all  right,"  said  the  older  man.  "  He  wasn't  any 
prize  citizen." 

"  Well,  he  got  it  good  and  plenty,  anyhow.  I  never 
saw  anybody  dead  before  —  I  mean  any  person  that 
had  been  killed  like  that,"  said  the  other,  with  strong 
distaste. 

They  were  silent  a  moment,  then  the  senior  spoke 


444  THE  EUDDER 

with  a  half-laugh.  ^^  Say,  did  you  get  the  little 
swede  trying  to  crowd  his  money  on  the  officer?  He 
thought  he  could  buy  Deyitt  off.  I'll  bet  Ikey 
wouldn't  have  done  that  much  for  his  own  mother ! " 

"  He  seemed  to  think  a  lot  of  Devitt.  I  noticed  a 
good  many  of  them  did.     He's  got  lots  of  friends." 

"  He'll  need  'em !  "  said  the  other  oracularly. 

But  this  sagacious  gentleman  was  mistaken.  Old 
Mike  Devitt  would  never  need  friends  any  more. 
"  He  didn't  say  anything/'  the  police-captain  ex- 
plained. "  But  we  didn't  think  anything  of  that. 
Most  of  'em  go  along  quietly,  because  what's  the  use, 
hey?  Nor  he  didn't  complain  of  feeling  bad;  only 
just  before  we  reached  the  station  he  gave  a  kind  of 
groan,  and  kind  of  slumped  down  this  way.  And  I 
says:  ^Aw,  take  a  brace!  You^re  going  to  be  all 
right ! '  I  says.  But  I  don't  believe  he  heard  me. 
We  got  the  doc  right  off,  soon  as  he  didn't  move,  and 
we  saw  there  was  something  wrong;  and  he  said  old 
Mike  was  gone  already;  he  went  when  he  give  that 
groan.  Heart.  He'd  had  trouble  with  it,  off  and 
on,  for  years,  I  been  told  since.  Looks  like  this  last 
business  must  have  been  too  much  for  him." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

PARADISE  PARK,  despite  its  exalted  name,  is 
an  intimate,  even  domestic  place.  There  is  a 
highly  utilitarian  pumping-station  and  reser- 
voir for  the  city's  water-supply  in  the  middle  of  it, 
a  street-car  track  traverses  it,  its  borders  are  en- 
croached upon  by  unfashionable  residences.  The 
elect  would  smile  at  the  notion  of  taking  outdoor 
recreation  there,  though  once,  we  are  told,  the  park 
was  rather  the  mode  for  a  summer  afternoon  drive. 
Nowadays  we  leave  such  simple  pleasures  to  the 
bourgeoisie  who  take  the  children  to  hear  the  Sunday 
concerts,  and  spoon  with  sweethearts  on  out-of-the- 
way  benches,  and  eat  luncheons  out  of  shoe-boxes,  just 
as  do  the  other  bourgeoisie  in  other  parks  all  the 
world  over.  Yet  the  park  does  not  lack  a  charm  over 
and  above  the  flowers  and  green  vistas  with  which  it 
seeks  to  vindicate  its  title;  the  outlines  of  its  hills 
are  picturesque,  and  at  times  it  will  even  take  on  that 
look  of  homely  antiquity  so  dear  to  the  American 
taste.  "  If  you  get  the  bluff  with  the  engine-house 
of  the  Incline  perched  on  the  brow  of  it  in  profile, 
it  reminds  you  of  the  Rhine,"  Mr.  Cook  said.  "  And 
there's  that  grand  bit  of  concrete  retaining-wall 
they've  built  to  hold  back  the  hill-side;  it  looks  as  if 
it  might  be  the  last  remaining  fragment  of  ancient 
fortifications.'' 

''  Yes.     Wouldn't  that  make  the  basis  of  a  fine  story 

445 


446  THE  RUDDEB 

to  tell  some  uninstructed  foreign  visitor  —  from  Great 
Britain,  by  preference.  '  This  is  all  that  is  left  of  the 
old  city-wall,  Lord  Algernon  —  erected  in  Indian 
days,  you  know.  The  Kentuckohis  —  one  of  our  sav- 
age tribes  —  used  to  call  it  in  their  figurative  lan- 
guage Upa-Ga-In-Stit,  or  Place  of  Very  Bad  Medi- 
cine.' '' 

"  You  have  concealed  from  me  this  talent  for  ro- 
mance, Miss  Grace.  Was  that  the  act  of  a  true 
friend?  " 

Bessie  laughed.  They  were  sitting  on  the  brick 
parapet  protecting  the  road  that  circles  about  the  rim 
of  the  reservoir.  The  April  sun  was  warm,  the 
ground  and  air  moist  with  exhaling  frost;  it  spread 
a  kind  of  blur  upon  the  landscape,  dimming  the  fresh- 
hued  sward  and  budding  trees,  and  imparting  even  to 
the  band-stand,  and  the  chimneyed  red-brick  pumping- 
house  that  deceptively  time-worn.  Old  World  appear- 
ance that  Cook  had  remarked.  He  had  taken  off  his 
overcoat  and  Miss  Grace  had  opened  her  jacket,  which 
was  the  exceedingly  smart  jacket  of  a  new  spring  suit ; 
her  pale  gold  hair  gleamed  under  a  hat  heaped  with 
violets ;  there  was  a  bunch  of  the  raal  flowers  at  her 
waist  —  MarshalFs  offering  when  he  came  to  take  her 
for  this  stroll.  Neither  of  them  was  in  the  least  dis- 
turbed about  the  possibility  of  being  counted  with 
the  bourgeoisie.  They  had  been  sitting  and  saunter- 
ing this  hour  in  perfect  indifference  to  the  opinions 
of  the  sophisticated. 

"  Pretty  time  of  day  for  you  to  be  finding  out  the 
richness  of  my  resources !  "  Bessie  retorted ;  then 
added  immediately,  indeed,  rather  hurriedly :  "  It's 
very  rash  to  go  hurling  those  crumbs  of  mortar  into 
the  reservoir,  Mr.  Cook.     Besides  being  bad  for  the 


BREAD  xiND  CIRCUSES  447 

public  health  and  destructive  of  the  public  property, 
a  park  policeman  might  come  along  and  catch  you 
in  the  act,  and  hand  us  both  over  to  the  authorities. 
The  least  they'd  do  would  probably  be  to  boil  us  alive 
in  the  water  we'd  contaminated.'' 

Cook  who,  in  fact,  had  been  with  a  kind  of  absent 
industry,  mechanically  picking  loose  particles  from 
between  the  bricks  apparently  for  the  purpose  of  see- 
ing how  far  he  could  shy  them  into  the  lake,  desisted 
"I  obey,''  said  he;  "not  because  I  am  convinced  or 
alarmed,  but  because  I  like  to  be  bossed  —  I  like  you 
to  boss  me,  that  is." 

And  once  more  Miss  Grace  spoke  with  unnecessary 
haste.     "  Speaking  of  women  bosses  — " 

"'  I  wasn't,"  said  Cook. 

"  Well  —  I  mean  —  I  was  thinking  about  your 
niece  —  your  niece  Mrs.  Loring,  I  mean,  of  course. 
I  haven't  had  a  chance  yet  to  tell  you  how  well  we 
think  she's  managing  her  bureau  —  at  the  Charities, 
you  know.  Grandmamma  is  on  the  Board,  and  she 
says  Mrs.  Loring  is  invaluable." 

Cook  made  an  assenting  sound.  "  Nellie  likes  it. 
She  seems  to  have  found  her  place  at  last,  after  all  her 
blind  blundering.  I  say :  '  all  her  blundering  '  as  if 
I  knew  all  about  her.  Of  course  I  don't.  None  of 
us  know  much  about  one  another.  But  anybody  can 
see  that  Xell's  marriage  was  one  blunder,  at  any  rate ; 
and  nobody  ever  gets  off  with  only  one." 

"  She  and  her  sister  seem  to  be  so  happy  living  to- 
gether." 

"  Oh,  yes.  Poor  Fan  I  She  can  see  a  little.  It's 
better  than  it  was  at  first,  but  I'm  afraid  it  can't  be 
cured.  Still,  she's  happy.  She  worships  Eleanor  — 
wants   everything  about  the  house  to   be  the   way 


448  THE  KUDDER 

Eleanor  likes  it,  every  dish  that  comes  on  the  table, 
every  curtain  and  stick  of  furniture.  You'd  think 
she  was  one  of  those  insanely  devoted  wives  you  hear 
about.  And  Eleanor  reads  the  paper  over  the  break- 
fast-table, and  goes  out  to  work  and  comes  in  again, 
and  settles  the  bills,  for  all  the  world  like  a  man !  I 
believe  she,  too,  is  happier  than  she  has  ever  been  in 
her  life." 

"  It's  the  independence,  I  suppose,'^  said  Miss 
Grace.  "  Do  you  know,"  she  went  on  with  a  slight 
hesitation ;  "  we  —  I  thought  maybe  you  would  have 
her  come  and  live  with  you,  after  the  divorce." 

"Live  with  me?  Nellie?"  said  the  author,  evi- 
dently considerably  startled.  "  Gracious,  no !  I'm 
very  fond  of  her ;  but  living  with  Nell  —  well,  it  would 
be  rather  like  trying  to  dance  the  tango  in  a  tray 
full  of  red-hot  eggs,  without  burning  yourself  or 
breaking  any  of  ^em!  No  she's  a  dear,  but 
living  with  her  — ! ''  he  wagged  his  head  expres- 
sively. 

"  Well,  I  didn't  know  —  it  seemed  natural.  Isn't 
it  ridiculous  how  we  are  all  given  to  planning  out 
other  people's  lives?  " 

"  It  doesn't  seem  to  me  ridiculous  for  you  to  have 
given  a  thought  to  planning  out  mine.  I  —  I  like  — 
it  makes  me  happy  to  be  told  that  you  — " 

For  the  moment  he  did  not  seem  able  to  get  any 
farther,  and  Bessie  precipitately  interposed :  "  Oh, 
look  at  the  light  on  those  roofs  down  below  there 
shining  through  that  thin  smoke !  It  gives  that  very 
same  beautiful  antique  dinginess  you  were  just  talk- 
ing about  — " 

"  I  wasn't,"  said  Cook  again.  "  I  haven't  talked 
about  that  for  a  half  hour.     I  have  been  trying  all 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  440 

this  while  to  talk  about  you  aud  myself  —  aud,  Bes- 
sie, you  won't  let  me." 

Bessie  thought:  "You  never  would  let  yourself 
before!"  And  then,  to  her  panicky  astonishment, 
heard  her  own  tongue  utter  those  words  without  let 
or  hindrance  or  direction  of  any  sort!  Moreover, 
there  must  have  been  some  damaging  admission  or 
revelation  in  her  tone,  for  the  next  instant  she  was 
obliged  to  remonstrate  faintly:  "Please  don't! 
Somebody  might  see — " 

But  Marshall  held  her  hand  tight,  and  got  out  his 
three  words  manfully.  ..."  I  —  I  couldn't  tell  you 
before,  Bessie,  I  couldn't  let  myself  show  it  —  only  I 
daresay  it  has  always  showed  in  spite  of  me.  But 
even  if  I  hadn't  had  my  own  standards  of  —  of  hon- 
our and  self-respect,  I  knew  what  you  thought  about 
fortune-hunters  — " 

"I  never  thought  you  were  one!''  cried  Bessie. 
"  I  wouldn't  have  thought  so  even  if  you  —  even  if 

you  — " 

"  I  couldn't.  Any  man  in  my  position  — !  The 
position  isn't  so  very  different  now  —  only  —  it  seems 
different  somehow^,  since  —  since  —  since  I've  gotten 
to  be  better  known  and  —  and  all  that !  "  said  Cook, 
stammering  and  colouring  painfully.  "  It's  not  quite 
as  if  I  had  nothing  — '' 

Suddenly  Bessie  began  to  laugh,  though  with  a 
catch  like  a  sob.  The  pink  came  back  to  her  cheeks ; 
she  looked  like  a  girl.  And  he  thought  his  heart 
stopped  a  beat  when  he  caught  her  tenderly  teasing 
glance. 

"  Oh,  Marshall,  vou've  done  it  so  badly !  You  made 
such  a  bungle  of  it  —  and  all  your  heroes  make  love 
so  beautifully,  even  the  naughty  ones !  " 


450  THE  EUDDER 

i^fter  a  while  they  went  wandering  through  the 
park  again. 

"  I'll  have  to  have  an  audience  with  your  grand- 
mother," Cook  said.     "  I  feel  rather  in  a  twitter  — '^ 

''  Oh,  hut  she  likes  you !  " 

^^Not  any  better,  I'm  afraid,  than  a  dozen  better 
men  that  have  wanted  to  marry  you.  Oh,  Bessie,  how 
I  have  raged !  And  had  to  make  fun  of  myself  all  the 
time!  Because  there  wasn't  any  use,  you  see.  One 
might  as  well  make  fun.  It  began  the  first  time  I 
ever  saw  you,  at  a  party  one  night.  You  had  on  a 
pink  dress.  I  was  quite  alone;  nobody  knew  me,  not 
even  the  hostess !     You  don't  remember,  I  daresay  — " 

"  But  I  do!  I  remember  very  well.  I  think  I 
wasn't  very  nice  to  you.  I  was  very  young  and  ab- 
surdly bitter  the  way  very  young  people  can  be.  One 
never  does  anything  by  halves  at  that  age.  Oh,  yes, 
I  remember  I '' 

They  were  both  silent  a  little,  thinking  of  the  years 
which  they  had  perhaps  wasted.  Yet  were  it  all  to 
be  lived  over,  neither  one  would  act  otherwise. 

"  The  first  thing  I  do  when  I'm  back  in  New  York 
will  be  to  go  to  Tiffany's  I  "  Cook  announced  sud- 
denly. 

She  stopped  still,  looking  at  him  in  serious  protest. 
"  Why,  Marshall,  don't  do  that !  I've  got  such  quan- 
tities of  jewellery  —  that  is  — " 

"  You  haven't  got  a  collection  of  engagement-rings, 
I  hope?  At  any  rate,  I'm  not  going  to  be  done  out 
of  the  slightest  one  of  my  heroes'  privileges.  I'm  go- 
ing to  get  a  great,  staring  one  like  a  chunk  of  glass, 
in  execrable  taste.  Then  I'll  know  the  dream  has 
come  true,  ^  for  keeps  ' — " 

They  laughed  extravagantly,  and  in  the  midst  of 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  451 

their  laughter,  found  themselves  with  further  merri- 
ment in  an  unfamiliar  neiglibourhood,  at  the  head  of 
some  steps  that  dropped  down  to  lower  levels  still 
more  unfamiliar.  The  park  was  somewhere  at  their 
backs;  but  all  unwitting,  thev  had  emerged  from  it, 
and  now  buildings,  intervening,  shut  it  off.  Here 
were  cobblestones,  houses  descending  the  hill-sides 
staircase-wise,  with  cramped,  ill-favoured  back-vards 
reticulated  with  clothesline  on  the  shelves  between. 
But  some  two  squares  to  their  right,  the  Incline  was 
visible  striding  down  on  giant  stilts;  and  Cook,  after 
a  survey,  pronounced  the  locality  to  be  Parallel 
Street,  not  very  far,  he  thought,  from  Eddystone 
Avenue  where  the  freight-yards  are. 

"  Not  the  choicest  spot  in  town  to  go  walking  in  I  '^ 
said  he,  between  amusement  and  concern.  "  I  haven't 
known  what  I  was  doing  for  some  time,  or  we  never 
would  have  fetched  up  here!  However,  I  won't  let 
you  climb  back  up  hill  again.  Suppose  we  valiantly 
go  on  down  and  get  the  Cherry  Street  car?  It  must 
be  somewhere  near  here ;  Mercy  Hospital's  on  one  cor- 
ner, and  I  think  there's  a  church  somewhere  round  — 
they  have  respectability  in  the  immediate  vicinity 
anyhow  I  " 

They  went  on  down  accordingly,  and  erelong  dis- 
covered Mercy  Hospital,  and  likewise  the  church,  one 
consecrated  to  the  worship  of  the  sect  of  Early  Chris- 
tians, as  it  appeared  from  a  tablet.  Indeed,  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  have  missed  this  edifice;  outside 
the  United  States  flag  floated  from  a  staff,  other  flags 
protruding  decoratively  from  the  lancet  windows; 
there  were  a  good  many  idlers  about,  none  of  them 
looking  vividly  interested,  to  be  sure,  and  numbers 
of  children  on  the  steps  or  performing  acrobatically 


452  THE  RUDDER 

along  the  high  iron  fence.  Within,  it  was  evident 
some  sort  of  exercises  were  going  on;  the  voice  of  a 
single  speaker  penetrated  through  the  open  doors  and 
windows,  rising  and  falling. 

"  Why,  this  isn't  at  all  disreputable! ''  Bessie  mur- 
mured disappointedly  in  Cook's  ear.  "  You've  taken 
me  to  ever  so  much  worse  places  than  this!  Let's 
find  out  what's  happening.  There's  a  lovely,  blear- 
eyed  gentleman  you  might  ask.'' 

But  this  was  not  necessary ;  for,  coming  abreast  of 
the  main  entrance,  they  perceived  a  pair  of  large  white 
placards  disposed,  easel-fashion,  one  on  each  side  of 
it,  lettered  in  red  and  black  with  exhortations  to  all 
citizens  to  Carry  on  the  Fight !  "  It  is  Half  Done. 
Make  a  Good  Job  of  it!  Drive  the  Dirty  Doggeries 
out  of  Business,  and  let's  have  a  Clean  Town.  No 
Liquor  —  No  Vice!"  Farther  down  you  were  re- 
minded that  it  cost  you  nothing  to  come  in  and  be 
informed;  the  evils  of  intemperance  were  being  set 
forth  in  three  lectures  to  which  admittance  was  abso- 
lutely free.  Speakers :  Tuesday  night,  the  Honour- 
able Selwyn  B.  Jukes.  Wednesday  night,  Mrs.  Anna 
Chatt  Brangle.     Thursday  afternoon  — 

''Who's  this?  What  do' I  see?"  exclaimed  Cook 
dramatically,  fixing  his  eyeglasses.  "  Well,  well,  are 
there  no  limits  to  his  abilities?  I  thought  he  was  a 
labour-leader !  " 

Miss  Grace  suggested  that  maybe  labour-leadering 
was  now  out  of  date,  demoded  in  short.  "  Why  don't 
we  go  in,  and  hear  him  on  Prohibition?  If  he's  half 
as  eloquent  as  he  was  that  night  at  dinner  — !  " 

So  they  went  in,  and  were  accommodated  with  seats 
in  a  pew  near  the  door,  the  auditorium  being  hand- 
somely   packed    with    Early    Christians,    or    others. 


BREAD  AND  CIRCUSES  453 

And  sure  enough,  there  was  T.  Chauncey  Devitt  on 
the  platform,  dark,  graceful,  sonorous,  delivering  sen- 
tences and  paragraphs  and  whole  pages  about  the 
Shadow  of  the  Curse  overcoming  the  Happy  Radiance 
of  the  Hearth,  with  interruptions  of  magnificent  ap- 
plause. He  was  "  swaying  the  multitude  -' ;  a  good 
half  of  the  women  were  in  tears ;  sometimes  there  was 
cheering.  Cook  and  Bessie  sat  and  listened  soberly ; 
they  did  not  look  at  each  other. 

"  He's  gettin'  near  the  end  now.  I  c'n  gen'lly  tell. 
You'd  oughta  come  in  sooner !  '^  a  woman  sitting  next 
to  Miss  Grace  volunteered  in  a  whisper.  "  Oh,  my !  ^' 
She  settled  back,  sighing  luxuriously,  and  dabbed  at 
her  eyes  with  a  ball  of  handkerchief. 

In  fact,  Chauncey  was  getting  near  the  end  in  easily 
recognisable  style.  He  had  taken  up  an  attitude  in 
the  centre  of  the  stage,  arms  outspread  and  face  raised 
to  Heaven,  and  was  declaiming,  almost  chanting  in 
measured  cadences  the  noble  words  of  his  peroration. 
Bessie  felt  a  twitch  from  her  companion,  and  turning 
w^as  astounded  to  behold  him  with  his  face  buried  in 
his  hands,  and  shoulders  heaving. 

"What's  the  matter?  What  is  the  matter?''  she 
whispered  urgently;  and  was  relieved  when  Marshall 
showed  her  a  corner  of  his  features  convulsed  indeed, 
but  not  by  the  emotion  she  had  supposed. 

"  Here,  let's  get  out  of  this,  or  w^e'll  be  disgi^aced  I '' 
he  said  between  two  muffled  paroxysms.  "  C-come 
on,  I  c-can't  hold  in  any  longer  I  " 

They  got  outside,  the  orator's  final  words  pursuing 
them  .  .  .  "but  come  what  may,  I  will  hold  the 
euhder  true  !  '^ 

THE   END 


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